Inktober 2017
by A. X. Zanier
Summary: A series of shorts and one-shots based on the Inkjournal prompts. Fandoms may vary. So far all have been MCU-related, but that could change over the course of the month. Same goes for characters. The specific fandom will be posted at the top of each story.
1. Inktober Day 1

Inktober #1 Fave Pen

Fandom: MCU

Extra scene from CA:CW

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How had things gone so horribly wrong?

His left arm tingled like mad, the nerves firing in sporadic bursts of needle-sharp pain that technically could be interpreted as a good sign given he'd felt nothing in the arm for long unnerving minutes after he'd taken the hit.

He winced as he shifted the arm, wondering if he had really gotten hurt this time. He'd thought nothing could top the constant ache of an arc reactor in the chest. This, even if only short term, might just stick in his memory longer than he'd prefer.

He'd had things under control. Barnes on lockdown. Rogers and Wilson brought to heel. He'd known exactly what to say, how to make it work and convince Rogers that signing the Accords would solve all manner of problems, including that of his long thought dead friend resurfacing with a bang.

Rhodey had brought them in after they'd torn through parts of Bucharest. The newly made King of Wakanda doing his share of damage, but not succeeding in his, according to Nat, preference in bringing him in dead rather than alive, but had more than enough pull, plus the sympathy of the world after his loss, to wiggle out of any charges.

The King is dead. Long live the King.

Everything had been going according to plan.

And then it had all gone to fucking hell.

The pens had been the key.

Or so he'd thought.

In the end, with Rogers wavering, truly considering signing in order to save Barnes from the fate that awaited him in Wakanda, it had been the little witch who caused everything to go south. Though he wondered if Rogers might have taken any excuse offered him, no matter how thin.

Rogers didn't want any part of the Accords. Accepting that wouldn't be easy, they'd been a team since New York. They'd been friends for nearly that long. He'd gotten used to the steady, unwavering presence of Steve Rogers and hated the hole that had been created in the man's absence.

It had only been two fucking days.

And now, now his entire world had been tipped on its side and strewn about like so much rubble.

They'd escaped.

Okay, maybe not escaped, precisely. Barnes had broken free of the cell he'd been held in. Which, in hindsight, probably meant he'd been a willing captive to a degree. Made him wonder how things would have gone if the man had actually resisted. It probably would not have ended well for anyone except the former Winter Soldier.

Rogers had gone after him, of course. Why permit those in charge to do their jobs and take care of the situation when Captain mother-fucking America could save the day.

He sucked in a breath, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest and the excruciating painful firing of nerves as he unintentionally shifted his arm.

Perhaps... perhaps he felt more than a touch irritated in that particular turn of events.

He waited until the discomfort had receded to a manageable level then stood slowly, not wanting to risk another flare of pain.

He'd left the pen where it had landed when Rogers had given it back, rejecting the attempt to put the team back together.

Reaching out gingerly he picked it up, wondering just where it had all gone wrong.

With a heavy sigh, he returned the pen to the case and its mate. Rogers had gotten one thing right, the pair shouldn't be broken up.

Neither should the Avengers.

He tapped the case idly in the palm of his hand. His father's favorite pens and a reasonable argument hadn't been enough to convince Rogers, what the hell would?


	2. Inktober Day 2

Inktober #2 - morning routine

Fandom: MCU

Additional scene for CA:CW

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I worked nights. Made sense on several levels. I didn't really sleep all that much. Fewer people to see and deal with. And the darkness made it far easier to fly by under the radar of those who preferred the half of the day when the sun graced the sky. A half dozen others shared the hours from dusk until dawn with me. Moving crates and boxes and cargo containers from place A to spot B without asking any questions as to what might be held within. We got paid in cash, kept our heads down and mouths shut. At the end of our shifts, we went our separate ways without having spoken more than a couple dozen words to one another.

We all had our reasons for working there and none of us had any interest in discussing the whys of how we'd come to be on the fringes of society.

I didn't need to know.

I walked there, changing routes to and from regularly, but always ending up near the market hungry with a pocketful of cash to spend. I'd purchase something for breakfast then head to my tiny apartment to clean up.

The plums caught my eye, and I asked if they were fresh in a language I could not recall learning. One of many I had discovered during my travels. I had yet to find a country in northern Europe where I could not communicate with ease. Part of me knew exactly where the various tongues had come from, but every time I tried to delve into those particular memories I always ended up with a headache of explosive proportions, so most times I didn't question how I knew a little-spoken dialect of Czechoslovakia and simply took advantage of being able to blend in easier than with what seemed to be my original English accent that skewed heavily to that of a New Yorker.

But I would get to that portion of my day soon enough. After breakfast, I would poke at those buried memories in a manner to similar to one probing gingerly at a sore tooth. You know it's going to hurt, but part of you revels in the spike of pain just because it has to be done.

And recalling those memories, whichever ones might present themselves, remained something that must be done. No matter the horrors revealed.

I paid for my plums, turned about, my gaze flicking over the crowd, but seeing nothing untoward. As I waited for the traffic to thin to cross the street observed the guy who sold newspapers and magazines go eerily still when he saw me.

In the months I'd been here he'd looked at me warily as the new face in the neighborhood, and one definitely not a native; in recognition, since I passed by this location pretty much daily at this point, but today... Today he almost seemed frightened.

Once he realized that I had caught him staring at me he took off at a run.

Instantly the hair on the back of my neck stood up and that feeling of eyes upon me became far stronger than I'd experienced in months. Taking all due care I braved the rush hour traffic to cross the street and went to the newsstand. The headline of the paper explained everything and I felt my heart sink. I had hoped to remain here a few more months before moving on, but now I had no choice.

I skimmed over the article with dismay. Unless I'd completely blacked out there could be no chance that I'd been in Vienna just the day before.

Though in truth I could have done it, easily at that. But I never would have been so careless as to have been caught on camera.

So, whoever had orchestrated the bombing wanted to flush me out into the open.

I glanced about, estimating I had maybe fifteen minutes to make my escape.

I set the paper back down and walked away.

Yes, walked.

Running at this point would only draw more attention to me.

Once in my building, I took the stairs two at a time, intending to get in, grab my go bag, and use the route I'd carefully planned out months ago. I would simply disappear and go to ground for a few weeks or months. Whichever the situation demanded.

I knew more than few places I would be able to hide undetected for months, if not years should the necessity arise.

Not the original plan, but given my morning routine had already been shot to hell, workable.

As I approached my apartment I heard movement, quiet, cat's paws, barely there steps and the soft susurrus of breathing.

Not the authorities then.

With all due care, avoiding every loose and creaky board, I swung open the door at just the proper speed to keep it from making a sound and entered my temporary home to see the very last person I expected.

He'd been hunting me since I'd dragged his wet, bedraggled ass out of the Potomac, made certain he lived and then walked away, never intending to see him again.

At least not until certain the memories in my head, the ones that included images of him, actually belonged to me and not someone else.

I had been shocked to discover he'd told me the truth. That we'd been friends decades ago. That the weird sense of knowing him hadn't been just some glitch in my matrix, but the truth, the real me, the person I had been before Hydra had turned me into a monster.

He wore a different uniform, though reminiscent of the one in my memory, and still had that damn shield. In my mind flashed images of him and explosions, and that oh so patriotic shield performing feats that should not have been possible.

In his hands, he held my current journal, the one where I wrote down what I remembered. Where I tried to piece together the shattered remains of my life... lives.

He suddenly stiffened, finally realizing that he no longer stood alone in the middle of the apartment.

His movements deliberate and slow, glancing over his shoulder to verify my location before turning about completely.

I didn't have time for this. They, whichever they had been deemed brave enough to take on the infamous Winter Soldier, would be here soon, but he would not be rushed.

He took in my appearance with all due care and a wariness in his eyes.

I don't imagine I appeared all that dangerous in my layered clothes and a bag of plums in my hand, but something, in his gaze, his stance, assured me that he had come prepared to fight if necessary. He didn't want to, much like on the helicarrier, but would do so if push came to shove.

I waited for him to make the first move even as those last few grains of sand trickled out of the top of the hourglass. My window for an easy escape closing rapidly and I knew that with his appearance my strategy had most likely been rendered worthless.

Still, maybe he'd side with me. Maybe he'd still choose to not see the killer.

His shoulders dropped and confirmed my hope, he saw me as an ally at the least, if not a friend.

And part of me felt unaccountably grateful.

Still, the timing couldn't be much worse.

I had maybe five minutes tops before all hell broke loose and I instead had to deal with Captain America standing in my kitchen.

I had a feeling this day would be going in my journal.


	3. Inktober Day 3

Inktober #3 Trigger

Fandom: MCU

Additional scene for CA:TFA

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Another day another Hydra facility to destroy. Blowing them up had turned out to be the easy part, getting to them not so much. The week-long trudging through rough country during the winter with Morita bitching and moaning the entire way made it just that much more fun. None of us liked the cold, or eating rations out of a can 'cause we dared not risk a fire, which especially sucked at night since it meant we had to huddle up with each other for warmth.

Cap usually took first watch, and last, and some nights all of them in between because along with the new and improved body he'd lost the need for sleep. Oh, he'd crash for a few hours after we were done and had been debriefed, but during the mission, I don't think he ever slept a wink.

Neither did I, which I knew failed to be anything close to normal, what with the way the others snored loud enough to give away our position some nights. Granted if they eased up on the drink a bit it might help, but I understood the need for the false warmth the scotch, or bourbon, or vodka, or wine, when we couldn't get our hands on anything else, could give.

Steve paced somewhere out in shadows, on the edges of what we had claimed as our camp. The tiny copse of trees protecting us from the worst of the wind, but also destroying our line of sight. So Falsworth sat on a branch he'd dragged over, rifle held across his arms, eyes roving over the darkened area, probably listening more than anything, since the cloud cover made it damn near pitch black out here.

I'd rolled up in my blankets a little ways away from the others in what had turned out to be a vain attempt to sleep. I gave it up as a bad job and sat up with a soft sigh, knuckling the eye that had been mashed into my sleeve in an effort to bring the focus back. I could see just fine. Washed out a bit, the colors muted, but still there. Beyond the screening of trees little moved other than Steve. Most animals either huddled up for the night or avoiding the area thanks to our scent. We hadn't exactly had the chance to bathe the last few days and even in the depths of winter there remained the definite whiff of unwashed human drifting about us like a fog.

Dum Dum muttered something in his sleep, rolled over, flinging an arm across the limp body of Gabe, who grunted at the unexpected weight, but otherwise didn't react. We trusted each other, enough to truly sleep while those who didn't guard our backs.

"Barnes, you okay?"

I nodded, then realized he probably couldn't see it. "Gotta piss," I lied, figuring it would be the one excuse no one would question.

Falsworth grunted. "Upwind if you would. Don't want to be smelling it all night."

I stood, picked up my blankets and tossed them over the others, making it clear I wouldn't be back anytime in the near future. They might as well be warm and ready to go for tomorrow. "I'll take next watch. Might as well let those who can sleep."

He nodded then tossed his chin to the right. "Steve's over thataway."

Whether he thought I intended to join our fearless leader or wanted to make certain I didn't startle him, I couldn't be sure, but it didn't matter. I could hear Steve's soft, squeaking steps in the snow, could practically sense the heat his body gave off as he circled the camp one carefully placed foot at a time. The fact that Falsworth could hear him proved how quiet the night had become. Usually, only I could hear Steve when he skulked about.

How a man that big could move so fucking quiet beyond me. Then again I'd gotten pretty good at it myself. My awareness of every subtle potential for noise heightened to the extreme. I mean, I'd been a pretty good soldier before... Before Azzano.

Before Hydra.

I hadn't expected to walk out of that place alive. Especially once I'd gotten sick and been given to Zola to play with.

I also hadn't expected to see my best friend ever again only to have Steve mother-fucking Rogers not simply show up at the Hydra weapons facility but rescue pretty much everyone there. All on his own. No backup. No support. No chance in hell that he'd succeed.

The stubborn little shit.

Okay, not quite so little anymore.

I made my way opposite of Steve, found a decent sized tree and actually took that piss, my eyes scanning the woods warily once I made certain I wouldn't be hitting my shoes. When finished I kicked snow over the steaming liquid and stepped away.

Once upon a time, I would have been as blind as the others out here. The darkness so deep that a hand waved at arm's length would remain unseen. I stretched out my arm, my gloved fingers easily visible at the end of my hand.

And that terrified me.

I should be as blind as the rest of the team.

Yet I could see.

Not just my hands, but the trees for a fair distance. The underbrush, the sky above in those few locations the canopy allowed the view of the sky high above. I could hear the rush of wings, most likely owls in search of their evening meal. And I didn't feel cold. Not like the rest of them.

I had no fucking idea what Zola had done to me.

I hadn't been asked many questions, not that I knew all that much. I'd been nothing more than another cog in the Army wheel. And he hadn't cared, not really. He... he'd done things to me. Things I tried really hard to not think about, least not since that debriefing after the rescue. I'd told them all he could remember, which hadn't been all that much.

Not then.

I'd recalled plenty since. I just didn't talk about it. It also might have contributed to my ongoing inability to sleep.

I knew something had changed within me, I simply could not put a finger on precisely what. I remained myself, mostly, but at times... at times something far darker and more calculating took over.

"Can't sleep?"

I didn't bother faking the twitch, I'd heard him coming up behind me, not even pretending to be quiet about it. Made sense since he didn't know. He'd done the same thing for the rest of the Howlies, making certain to announce his presence, mostly to avoid getting shot. That had happened exactly once, though Dum Dum had been drinking so that might have contributed to the situation.

"Not tired," I told him, keeping my voice down for appearance's sake. We were alone out here. The nearest patrol miles away at a guess. We would not be hitting the target until mid-morning tomorrow.

He'd left his helmet back at the camp, so that shock of blond hair stood out against the darkness, his blue eyes bright and boring into mine. He suspected something other than pre-mission jitters had kept me wakeful, but I doubted he would ask.

"It'll be fine, just recon. There won't be much for us to do, but look pretty."

I snorted. "Dum Dum'll hate that." And he would, mostly 'cause once we reported back we'd have to wait until the General decided if we'd be moving in on our own or wait for reinforcements.

"Dum Dum hates everything," Steve pointed out, tone sardonic.

"Not whiskey. Or women. Or shooting things." Dum Dum had some serious issues, but no more so than the rest of us. Of all of us, only Steve seemed to have the least hang-ups. Not that he liked killing, but that didn't slow him down. If he could get us in and out without bloodshed he'd do it. Don't get the idea he would ever choose retreat as an option. Even at five foot nothing and ninety-eight pounds wet he had never backed down from a fight.

Back then he lost a lot.

Not so much these days.

We did lose good men on missions, but overall, the core team, the Howling Commandos as we had come to be known, walked away with only minor injuries. We all trusted Captain America to get us out alive with another job well done.

Hell, we didn't even fight Nazis anymore, just Hydra who seemed to delight in killing anyone on their side as much as those actually fighting against them. Our best scientists, meaning Stark, still had no clue how their weapons were powered, only that the tech exceeded that of the Allies by an order of magnitude.

"True 'nuff," Steve agreed clapping me on the shoulder. "You take east, I'll take west?"

I nodded. Might as well kill some time until I relived Falsworth. I checked my weapon then strode away, heading for the east side of our camp.

. . .

I lay on my stomach using the optics of my rifle to scout the area while the rest of the Commandos went in on foot. I didn't mind, really. I'd been picked for sniper training in basic. Had those skills greatly improved during my time with the 107th so there hadn't come as much of a surprise when Steve had taken advantage of that talent when I'd followed him back to war.

I spent a lot of time high up in trees or on my belly in the brush watching the backs of my team. Thanks to Stark I had the best optics and firing distance in the entirety of the Allied forces. I loved the increased range but found the optics to almost be unnecessary. Oh, they helped for those really, really long shots, but today I used them out of convenience only.

To feel a bit more normal.

They'd met little resistance thus far, the buildings crumbling and broken from any number of previous attacks, and yet the intel had convinced us that Hydra had taken up residence here. Like cockroaches living in broken remains of a house. Burrowing in deep and only coming up as necessary.

And maybe that's exactly what had happened here. Maybe it only appeared abandoned on the surface. Maybe they had gone underground. We'd discovered entire towns riddled with secret tunnels and bunkers, no reason not to suspect the same here.

I felt a sensation of cold wash through me and I knew... knew with a frightening certainty were we not alone here. Something, a feeling I did not want to acknowledge, flooded me and I instantly calmed. With a cold calculation, I began to search the area looking for anything out of place.

It didn't take long. I spotted Cap, cautiously making his way through the rubble of a building, only to have my focus shift upward to a gap in the wall.

A Hydra agent stepped into view and without even having to think about it I squeezed the trigger.


	4. Inktober Day 4

Inktober #4: protagonist

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They had modified weapons, firing something other than bullets. They hurt like nothing I'd felt before. The body armour held up at first. But in the end, the repeated hits broke down even the best Stark had to offer.

Still, we held our ground. Dropping one by one. Keeping them our while our Captain and his team completed their mission. It didn't matter how many of us went down so long as the goal had been achieved.

They rushed the doorway, a half-dozen forcing their way through guns firing with a scary precision. Only five of my team of twelve still stood, though several of those down continued the fight, firing from where they had fallen. Others... might never stand again.

Hazard of the job, I suppose.

You put your life on the line for god and country and hoped you walked away reasonably intact. I'd been doing that for a long time. Miltary, then SHIELD, and now for the Avengers under the guise of the employ of Stark Industries.

I and my team had the distinct pleasure of working with Captain America and the other Avengers. This time might not end as well as the others.

"Cap, we're not going to be able to hold much longer."

" _Roger, Alpha. We need at least five minutes_."

I grumbled under my breath. Uncertain we'd last another sixty seconds. "Beta leader, is our exit secure?"

" _Window is closing. Backup incoming. ETA seven minutes_."

Well, that wasn't good, but I did not have the leverage to encourage our fearless leader to move any faster. "Understood. Keep our exit clear by any means necessary."

"Roger, Alpha leader."

I fired off a few quick shots, taking one of them down with a lucky shot that got between the sections of his armour. However, there remained another dozen behind them, and they knew they had the upper hand, my team being picked off one by one.

And more were on the way.

Another one of my men went down, but we were currently outnumbered four to one and it would only get worse and mine dropped beneath the onslaught.

We needed to stop them here, but since they had the numbers it would just be a matter of time before we were overwhelmed. And we were the last line of defense for the Captain.

I fired off a couple more rounds then ducked behind the shelves. We needed to convince them the cost would be too troublesome to move forward. How though.

I went through my remaining arms. Two grenades, three clips and not much else. It might just be enough, though.

"Alpha, we need to draw them in and get them bunched up."

" _Roger,_ Alpha _leader_ ," came from the half-dozen of my team still mobile.

They began taking shots while backing deeper into the room. They conveniently formed a wedge, standing almost shoulder to shoulder as they progressed deeper into the room and closer to my position.

I had a plan. Not a great plan, admittedly, but one that should eliminate most of them, give us some breathing room and permit the Captain's team the time they needed to finish.

With liberal use of ducktape, I wrapped the two grenades together with two of the magazines. I maintained my position even as the rest of my team retreated deeper into the room. I waited impatiently until they were parallel with my position. I pulled the pins on the grenades and tossed the makeshift bomb right behind the three in the front.

I dove for cover even as several of them turned and began firing at me. I felt the body armour fail in at least three places, the pain shocking and driving the breath from my lungs. I hit the floor hard and curled up into a ball, protecting my head and covering my ears just in time.

The grenades went off, setting off all the bullets in the magazines as well.

The flash blinded me. The sound deafened me. But I forced myself to shift about to see the results.

There were bodies everywhere, my IED had successfully stopped them, the few who'd survived limping back out the way they'd came, abandoning their compatriots.

I forced myself to stand, ignoring the sudden weakness that washed through me. "Alpha team, regroup and hold position."

I heard a chorus of 'rogers' in response, propped myself up where I could see the doorway and hoped I'd convinced them it would cost far too much to try to take this room.

I didn't remember closing my eyes or falling over onto the floor. I opened them to see the face of Captain America hovering above mine.

"We've got you, just hold on."

It didn't matter whether I lived or died.

I wasn't the protagonist of this story.

They were.


	5. Inktober Day 5

Inktober #5 Talisman

Fandom: MCU

Word count: 455

Post CA:CW pre A:IF

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The attack was over in seconds.

I shouldn't have gotten involved, but from my perspective, there hadn't been much choice. If I hadn't stepped in if I hadn't put myself in the line of fire so many more innocents would have died. It had been a normal up until the moment the half dozen trucks pulled into the square carrying dozens of armed men. Not soldiers, more likely local militia or the personal army of one of the local warlords.

I ducked my head down, shifting the hoodie further forward to disguise my profile a bit more, at first intending to not get involved and began to make my way through the crowds.

Until the shouting began.

Quickly followed by screaming.

I stopped dead and spun about to see the unwanted visitors rounding up locals, and forcing them to the center area framed by their trucks. They barked orders in a language I didn't understand, but their intent had become clear.

The crowd surged away from them en masse, flowing past me like rough water in a river. I held my ground, like a rock jutting out into the flow, to be worn down by time and friction, but otherwise unmoving.

What frightened me, what convinced me to act was the resigned looks on some of their faces. They didn't wail, or fight, or even think about resisting. They all knew they were going to die, and more knew they could not fight back because if they did they would be killed anyway.

Why fight the inevitable, right?

The wise move would be to walk away and not reveal that I had taken up residence in this area. Hell, I'd been here less than a week and hadn't set up the next safe house. If I did this. If I stepped in and did the right thing I would have to run immediately after.

The guns came out, the militia surrounding the dozens they'd dragged into place and forced to their knees.

Now or never.

I reached for the shield on my back and cursed softly at having forgotten yet again that I no longer had that talisman with me.

I'd left it behind for a reason. Left the mantle of Captain America and that physical representation of it on the icy floor of a Siberian Hydra base. It had been time. Time to let go of the caricature of godlike perfection that mask I'd worn had attained.

Time to be Steve Rogers. The good man instead of the perfect soldier.

I kept the hood up, shoulders hunched down, and walked with a deliberate pace to my steps.

They were so focused on those they intended to slaughter they remained blissfully unaware of me until the moment I threw that first punch.


	6. Inktober Day 6

Inktober day 6: role model

Fandom: MCU

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The kid had done it again.

I mean, yeah, I wish he'd accepted and become an Avenger full time. Well, as full time as a genius high school student could possibly be. He had said no, after months of practically begging to be sent on a mission, any mission with the rest of us. Not that there were a lot of us, just me and Rhodey at the moment, and Rhodey... well Iron Patriot still did his duty for the US Military.

Ross had been pushing recruitment. Pushing me into doing it and I'd come up empty. Turned out a while a lot of countries agreed with the Accords a whole lot of people, the good ones anyway, didn't. I'd spoken to any number of enhanced who were all gung-ho for hurting people on the U.N. Panel's orders. Some turned out to be Hydra. Some just turned out to assholes. None turned out to be worth my time except the kid.

And he'd told me no.

Hadn't expected that.

Oh, if we really, really needed him I felt certain he'd answer the call, his sense of responsibility almost as big as his heart. Which is why he'd made the choice to stick close to home and defend those he felt closest to. HIs family and friends still important to him. And I couldn't blame him.

He reminded me of one star-spangled superhero that I used to work with.

I saw the same earnestness, the same need to save as many as possible in the kid's eyes.

He would try and try until he collapsed under the weight of it all.

So, I kept an eye on him. Well, had FRIDAY keep an eye on him and let me know if he'd gotten himself in over his head... again.

He'd done good this time. Don't know how he figured out that train had been made a target, and didn't much care. He'd followed through and saved hundreds of people.

The papers called him a hero. All except the Daily Bugle who seemed to think he was a terrorist worse than Osama bin Laden himself.

I shook my head at that one.

Kid wouldn't hurt a fly.

I felt a hand on my shoulder followed by a kiss on my cheek. Pepper set another paper on the table before me with a headline proclaiming: Spider-Man Saves the Day.

"I never thought I'd say this, but you've become one hell of a role model."

"Moi?" I arched an eyebrow at her. "I think I've been insulted."

She laughed softly.


	7. Inktober Day 7

Inktober Day 7: Indulgence

Fandom: MCU (post CA:CW, pre A:IW)

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Steve's eye flicked over the crowd and I could feel the tension in the air about him.

I shifted closer and bumped his shoulder with mine. "Dude, you really need to chill."

He shot me a glare. "I don't like this. Too many people."

I sighed. "Yep, hundreds and hundreds of them and not a single one cares who we are."

"You can't be sure of that," he griped.

Yeah, I could. Neither of us looked like we should. The situation forcing us to make what physical changes we could. He'd grown his hair out to lengths I hadn't thought possible and now sported a full beard and it completely changed his looks from the clean-cut good old American boy that he normally portrayed. I'd made similar changes and so far luck had been with us and we'd remained unrecognized for the months we'd been on the run.

Clint appeared on Steve's right, just about literally appearing out of nowhere. It could be easy to forget that he'd been a spy and SHIELD agent for years before I'd fallen in with the group. He'd changed quite a bit as well. Clean shaven, but the hair completely different and thinner. As if being on the run had taken a lot out of him. Which it probably had since it forced him to all but abandon his family.

That alone would wear anyone down to a shadow of their former self.

"Nat can't make it," he told us without preamble.

"She doing okay?" Steve asked. He'd been dismayed to hear she'd been forced to go on the run after assisting him and Barnes's escape at Leipzig.

"She's good. Fury wanted to see her is all." He shrugged as if it were of no great importance. "Anyone else joining us?"

"Got a maybe from Wanda, so we'll have to wait and see," I told him. It had been harder for Wanda given the limits on changing her appearance. Natasha had taught her well though and she'd had little trouble remaining undiscovered. I hated the fact that we'd been forced to scatter, but staying together would have been too obvious and while we had sympathizers, others would happily report us and collect the bounty that had been placed on all of our heads.

Steve checked in on everyone regularly. Still our leader and still feeling responsible for the well being of all of us. He'd worked out dead drops and we all had burner phones we could send coded messages on, but we didn't use them all that often. We all had more than enough experience to live relatively normal lives and go undetected for extended periods of time.

That said, most of us ended up moving fairly often simply because when trouble happened we failed utterly at being able to walk away from it. Getting together, all of us like this had only happened once before, right after me and Steve had left Wakanda. Lang had been there as well, but instead of on the run like the rest of us, he 'd chosen to go back home after assurances he'd be as safe as possible there.

We followed the crowd, ending up on the hillside overlooking the stage. Not the best seats in the house, but one hell of a view nonetheless. Steve snapped out the blanket, waving for us to sit as he scanned the crowd one last time before determining us to be safe enough for the time being. Right after he settled on the edge of the blanket a strange woman sat next to him.

His head snapped about and her appearance instantly changed into that of our Scarlet Witch.

Steve smiled. "New trick?"

She nodded. "Easier than dying my hair." A clear shot at our now blonde Black Widow. "Everything all right?"

"He just doesn't know how to relax," Clint grumbled as he waved to the guy hawking bottles of water and bags of popcorn.

Steve hunched his shoulders and kept his head turned away during the quick transaction. The guy never even looked at any of us twice. Clint passed around the snacks, Steve taking his with great reluctance.

"Man, lighten up. No one cares who we are," Clint told him, clearly glad to be out of the shadows if only for a few hours.

Had to admit enjoying being a human being again instead of that crushing weight of being hunted like an animal. Oh, none of us would let our guard down, even here, but the focus here would on the stage below us, not those in the crowd.

"Steve, even you are allowed a moment of indulgence now and then."

He sighed, shoulders dropping in something reminiscent to resignation. "I know, but..."

"But nothing. We all deserve a day off now and then," Clint argued. "We can't be heroes all the time. Too exhausting."

"We need to feel normal every once in a while," Wanda added.

Sadly, none of were. Normal, that is. Even me and Barton, who had no enhancements, still spiked the well above average section of the pie chart. The number of people on the planet who could handle the EXO-7 wings was less than a dozen and I was one of them.

Barton... Barton had eyesight better than more predatory birds and a reaction time, unlike anything I had ever seen before. Add to that a cunning the likes of which I had never seen and you could understand why he'd been recruited by SHIELD. He might come across as a dumb as a post redneck, but the intelligence behind those eyes definitely spiked the genius range.

I saw Steve's back stiffen. "You are normal," he told her, tone borderline harsh, "Don't you ever think otherwise."

Because to call her different meant he had to feel that way himself. He'd spent large portions of his life being treated as different. Too small. Too sickly. Too smart. Too strong. Too... different.

Wanda leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "It's all right, I don't mind so much when I'm with you."

Down below the first cords of music wafter out from the speakers and I interrupted Steve's argument before it started. "Hush, old man. Enjoy the music."

He frowned at me but kept his mouth shut for a change.


	8. Inktober Day 8

Inktober Day 8: fruit

Fandom: The Invisible Man (TV 2000)

Notes: The POVs are messed up, but I don't want to go back and fix them right now.

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The footsteps were moving away from him, but he could see no one. Yes, the hallway was currently swallowed up in shadows, but he'd lived alone for the last three years. Not much of a chance someone had moved in without him noticing.

Okay, so his boss did keep him busy and he spent far more hours on any given day doing whatever the man asked, but seriously. Maybe he just needed to eat. Real food. While his boss did indeed pay well and provide food all day every day he didn't often take the time to indulge.

Not unless Mama walked in back and saw him sitting there with the books open and nothing but stale, cold coffee in the cup by his elbow. Cooking the books his job, the task of making certain every bite of food in the restaurant had been cooked to perfection belonged to Mama.

When she brought a plate of food you stopped what you were doing, no matter what it might be, and ate. The boss didn't mind since you were making his Mama happy, but he definitely expected you to make up the time spent doing something other than making certain the feds didn't know where the extra money taken in from the less than legal jobs went.

He heard another board creak down the end of the hall and decided the bright lights of the kitchen would be the best place to try to forget that the house appeared to become haunted. He turned on every light, the stainless steel he'd invested in doubling the brightness level. He emptied his pockets, into the bowl on the counter, wallet, keys, mints, and the zip drive. It would go in the safe in the office before bed. The only time it ever left his sight.

He opened a bottle wine poured and drank a glass and then poured another before heading to the fridge to rummage for something vaguely resembling a meal. Looked like reheating lasagna and garlic knots would be on the menu for tonight. Door still open he glanced at the takeout menu selection on the counter, debating having Thai delivered then decided against.

The lasagna would do.

He pulled out the leftovers and set about prepping them for proper reheating. He thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and whipped about to stare at the metal basket he would have sworn in a court of law had held fruit just seconds ago and that now appeared to be empty.

He closed the oven door and stepped cautiously over to the counter in question, reached out to touch the spot where the apples and pears had been only to encounter icy cold air.

He yelped and jumped back, smacking the center island with enough force to bruise his back. "What the fuck?"

The pots hanging from the rack overhead suddenly shifted knocking together. He froze, head turning in slow motion and eyes going wide. A soft, almost musical sound made his head whip right back around to see the basket now contained three apples and two pears. Just as it should have.

He grasped the glass of wine with a shaking hand and downed the majority of it in one long swallow.

"I'm fine. Just tired. Overworked. Stressed even." he assured himself as if saying it would make it true.

He sucked in several panting breaths gaze flicking wildly about the kitchen, trying to watch everything at once in hopes of actually seeing what had been causing the disturbances.

Just about the time his heart rate came down and his breathing evened out he saw the window next to him begin to frost over. He stood there, staring dumbfounded as the entire huge piece of glass slowly, but inexorably turned white, popping and groaning at the radical temperature change.

A soft crunch nearby caused him to snap about to see a bite taken out of an apple.

"What the fuck do you want?"

A squeaking sound drew him back to the window where the words Get Out wrote themselves in the steaming frost.

He felt the blood drain from his face.

" 'Get out.' Yeah, that sounds like a great idea right about now." He grabbed his keys out of the bowl, fled the kitchen and the house.

Ten seconds of silence passed when a ghostly voice wafted out across the empty room. "Is he gone?"

The tinny response from Hobbes sounded highly amused, "Yeah, Fawkes, you're clear."

"The security system?"

"Shit. Uh, we couldn't get into it."

"So even Monroe's vaunted tech can't hack the mob's CPA? I am so very disappointed. See through it is." He turned off the oven; no reason to have the poor guy's house burn down. Then he picked through the bowl until he found the prize. If the rumors held true this zip drive held all they would need to take down one of the biggest and nastiest gun runners on the west coast.

With a chuckle he tucked it into the pocket of his jeans then picked up the apple and took another bite. "Package acquired, ETA three minutes."


	9. Inktober Day 9

Inktober day 9: acronym

Fandom: MCU

Notes: I could have gone either I-Man or MCU with this one. You can see which won. I'm pretty certain this is the first time I've written Darcy. Here's hoping I channeled her reasonably well

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"BARF. FRAB. FARB?" No, rearranging the words into something even more nonsensical wouldn't do it. I needed to come up with a completely different descriptor for the unit, but I had BARF stuck in my head so thoroughly that it might just have to go to market with that name. If nothing else, I doubted anyone would forget it, though the snickers that would follow after might not be something I could live down.

I pulled the modified glassess off and pinched the bridge of my nose. The headache building behind my eyes from frustration and not use for now. I planned another test run later today to see if the side effects had been reduced or, hopefully, eliminated completely.

They wouldn't be of much use for treating trauma if the wearer ended up with a debilitating headache every single time.

"Doesn't that stand for Binarilay Aug-something something. The brain scanner thingy you showed off at MIT?"

I stopped my pacing, head snapping around to see one Darcy Lewis slurping down a cup of what was most likely my very expensive coffee from my favorite mug, no less.

"Binarialy Augmented-"

"Blah blah blah. You geniuses and your hundred dollar words." She took a sip, leaving perfect bright red lip imprints on the rim of my cup. "Just call it a MNEM."

I blinked twice. "What are you doing here?" I'd seen her at the Compound maybe once before. Her boss, Jane Foster, had chosen not to join the Avengers even as a civilian contractor. Her relationship with our resident demigod hit or miss as of late. Mostly miss since he'd been off-world for several years now. If he'd stopped by to say hi to his mortal squeeze I hadn't been made aware of it.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders. "Jane needed to give some data to Erik so I got to play delivery girl."

Okay, that made some sense given Erik had come onboard fulltime to deal with the various anomalies that had been popping up since Dark Elves had tried to invade Greenwich a few years back. Yes, Dark Elves using something called the Aether, which Selvig suspected was another of those Infinity Stones Thor had gone in search of. Yeah, I had a lot on my plate at the moment. "You? Why you?" I asked in curiosity and no little confusion, given the resources I had at my disposal.

"Jane trusts me," she answered in a tone that suggested it should have been obvious.

I waved my hands about. "She does realize I have several dozen Avengers I could have sent to pick up and deliver the information and saved you the trouble of flying halfway around the world in coach."

"First class thank you very much. And she doesn't know any of them." She huffed out a breath. "What?

You think I can't handle it or something?" A fisted hand settled on one hip, a challenging look in her eyes.

"Not a chance. Just think you have better things to do than play delivery girl," I told her. No, she would never be an Avenger, but she had her place in the grand scheme of things and I'd never mind a visit from her.

"Well, I don't mind that part so much. Means I get to steal some of your coffee." She grinned at me over the top of the mug before taking a deliberate sip of the dark brew within.

I chuckled. If that was her price of admission, I could live with it. "NEM?" I asked, getting back to where this discussion began.

"M. N. E. M. First m is silent."

"And what would that stand for?" I managed to not roll my eyes, though I had to admit it did sound better then BARF.

"Memory Neural Enhancement Module. That's basically what it does, right?"

"Uh, yes actually. Though that description is greatly oversimplified."

"Right, 'cause most of the people who are gonna be using it care about all those big fancy words you used to describe it. And, yes, I read your paper on the subject. I think the idea is really cool."

"But you think the big fancy words are too much," I snarked.

"Look, just because my preferred subject is political science and not science science doesn't mean I'm stupid, all right. I can keep up with both Jane and Erik so long as they use KISS with me. They keep me around for a reason."

Yes, they did. Both of them insisting they worked better with Miss Lewis around so who was I to argue the point. "And?"

"And it's what I do. Jane'll use the big words, I make her explain and then I come up with an acronym that describes it in simple terms. Like a mnemonic."

"MNEM." I wagged a finger at her and she gave me a saucy wink in return. "What do you think, FRIDAY?"

"I think Miss Lewis's suggestion is worth considering. Anything will be better then BARF."

"And from a marketing standpoint, it has potential." I watched Darcy as she drank my coffee out of my cup without a care in the world, and in that moment of clarity I understood, a least a little, why Team Thor kept her around.

"So, any chance you'd be interested in helping me get this thing ready for market?"

Her eyebrows went up. "I don't know. Jane keeps me busy what with all her sciency stuff."

"I'm sure we can work out a timeshare agreement that'll be of benefit to everyone," I assured her. If she were going to be playing courier between Jane and Erik she might as well get some personal benefit out of it.

"Time is money, Mr. Stark."

"That can be discussed as well." Shrewd of Miss Lewis.

"Five percent of the gross when it's marketable."

I laughed. "You have a deal, Miss Lewis."

"You heard that, right FRIDAY."

"I did indeed."


	10. Inktober Day 10

Inktober day 10: So weird

Fandom: MCU (post CA:CW)

Notes: Darcy tried to make another reappearance for this one, but a 3.5 mile walk later and we ended up with this.

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"What were you thinking?"

I stopped drying my hair, draping the towel around my neck and met the steely-eyed glare of Dr. Pym.

"Uh, about what, exactly?" I asked since there could be more than a few subjects the question could pertain to.

Hank rotated the laptop to reveal footage of me in Leipzig. Bad security footage, but still cool to see. "We needed a distraction."

"Indeed. And what made you think doing that," he pointed to the giant form on the screen, "was the best move?"

I shrugged. "It worked. They got away. Saved the day. Etcetera, etcetera." I tossed the towel over the back of a chair and ran my hands through my hair. "And I didn't rip in two."

Hank sighed heavily. "Except for the fact the whole world got to see it."

"I doubt that. Fair bet Ross and Stark scrubbed it from the 'net as much as possible. Wouldn't want to show the world how badly they fucked up, after all."

Hank gestured at the screen. "And where did this come from?"

"Someone always saves a copy. Unless they used a virus to trace every version downloaded to phones and home computers it'll always pop back up." It wouldn't take all that much effort in truth, but given a government had become involved I doubted they'd bother to put in the effort. I leaned down to watch the video as it replayed and had to admit it looked pretty damn amazing when I went from ant to giant sized.

"Scott, you got caught."

Hank sounded so disappointed in me that I actually felt an instant of guilt.

"And I got out. With the suit, so what's the problem." Granted I'd had help with both of those things, but I knew we'd get out. No way Cap would leave anyone behind. Least that's what the others had assured me. And I believed them. Sam especially. Though I'd thoroughly disagreed with him trusting Stark, though in some ways it had worked out. That base had been found, those Hydra Soldiers had been eliminated, and Barnes had been cleared of all charges.

Didn't keep all of us from being branded war criminals by Ross.

"They're going to come after you." Hope entered the room on those words, two mugs in her hands. She handed one to me, which I took and then sipped from her own.

"I think they'll be too busy looking for the Captain and won't give a damn about some unknown." Just a white lie. I know they'd gone digging into my family, so, aside from letting them know I'd gotten free, I had stayed away. Oh, I dropped in to visit Cassie every few days, making use of the suit to do so, but otherwise stayed away, waiting for the hunt to die down.

Hank snapped the laptop shut. "You can't be certain about that."

"You're right, I can't, but I also can't run. I won't leave my family. Or either of you." I looked from one to the other, Hank pinching the bridge of his nose, while Hope just met my gaze with narrowed eyes. We'd been slowly moving forward with a relationship, the time at the Raft making the reunion an interesting one, to say the least. She'd seemed to be torn between angry and proud.

"Scott, I just don't understand why? Why would you even think about doing this?"

I flung my free hand up in frustration. "Captain America asked me... me for help. Was I supposed to say no."

Hank growled, "Yes."

Hope responded, "No."

Father and daughter spent several moments staring at each other as if both were shocked at the what the other had said.

"This is so weird."

"What is?" Hank asked, exasperated.

"Hope agreeing with me. Doesn't happen often."

She shifted closer and bumped my shoulder. "That's because you don't deserve it often."

I grinned and raised my mug in a toast.


	11. Inktober Day 11

Inktober day 11: Happiness is…  
Notes: Additional scene for CA:TWS

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 _"But seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?"_

 _"I don't know."_

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I really wish Sam hadn't asked me that question because now I couldn't help but think about it. And I had been avoiding that exact subject for what I now realized had been an exceedingly long time.

I mean I'd been awake from my extended nap for all of two weeks when all hell had broken loose and alien had invaded New York. I hadn't officially joined SHIELD at that time, but when Fury had shown up I didn't see an option. Let the world fall into chaos, or help in any way I could.

I had just come from a war, used to taking orders and getting the job done. Seemed to be the path of least resistance. Besides, fighting the bad guys I understood, this wild world I'd woken up to still baffled me. Parts of it just the same. Others so different that I had no real way to comprehend it.

Oh, given time I would adapt just fine but, then, I'd felt overwhelmed and being able to get back to doing something, anything I understood had been a relief.

So when all had been said and done I'd gone to Fury and offered to resume my place as a soldier. He pretended to be surprised that I'd shown up on his doorstep looking for a job, but I knew better. It had been inevitable that I'd go to SHIELD. I mean, I guess I could have gone into the regular Army again, but what would they have done with me?

SHIELD and Fury at least had some idea of what I could do and make actual use of those talents. The Army would be at a loss. and I would probably just make any others I worked with angry and envious. Enhanced individuals still a rarity, at least publicly. Being a legend didn't help my case all that much. Re-enlisting would not have worked. War had changed too much for my style of fighting to be of any real use. Tactically, maybe, but I'd be bored out of my mind in no time at all.

I could train others, that would be different and interesting to a degree, but even that would pale after a while.

Sadly, I had learned I was a doer and doubted I'd last more than three months behind a desk without going quietly insane.

And SHIELD gave me something to do. I didn't always agree with everything, as this last mission had proved, but we'd still saved the lives of all those on board even if the real reason we'd been sent had been something other than a rescue.

I hated the deception even though I loved… okay, maybe not loved, but the work kept me busy and kept the world safe. Peggy and Howard had created SHIELD, seemed keeping their hopes, dreams, and memories alive couldn't be a bad thing.

But not once had I anyone asked me if I felt happy.

Not even myself.

Not until Sam.

When I got back to my apartment I sat down at my kitchen table notebook before me, pen in hand.

At the top of the page I had written: Happiness is…

Two hours and three cups of coffee later the page still remained otherwise blank.


	12. Inktober Day 12

Inktober Day 12: overcame  
Fandom: MCU/AoS (post CA:CW)  
Notes: When I get stuck I used a random first line generator to get me motivated. You can quite literally blame this entire story on the first line. Yes, I know I'm a couple days behind, work is kicking my ass as usual. I intend to get caught up (and maybe ahead) on my days off this week.

Unbetaed so there's prolly typos that I missed.

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I wasn't happy about it, but I'd been recalled to life for a reason.

"How long?"

I sat there with heated blankets wrapped around me, hair wet and hanging about my face, my body wracked with shivers as I glanced about the sterile room. The honeycomb-like pattern to the walls, the high tech cage next to the door.

The man in the suit with the tablet flicked his eyes up for an instant, as if afraid to meet mine. Presuming he had my dossier pulled up I could understand why. The ATCU hadn't ambered me just for funsies.

"Eighteen months," he informed me, tone curt and accent decidedly not from my half of the world.

"Scottish?" I questioned. "Has the ATCU gone international or something?"

"No, you're not… I'm not… This is SHIELD."

Oh yay. I could think in no way that could be an improvement. "So why am I…" I stopped before say the word _free_ as I clearly was not and quickly changed it to, "awake."

"According to this, you were not considered violent."

I snorted, then sneezed ambering fluid onto the corner of the sheet in lieu of a tissue that I did not have.

"Sorry about that. They haven't quite figured out how to keep it from getting into the sinuses when they dissolve it." He tapped the screen before him. "The report claims you resisted your initial interview with the ATCU and they ambered you."

" _Interview_? They came at me with weapons drawn and gave me no options. Submit willingly for the _interview_ or be _encouraged_ to come in anyway." I wanted to laugh, but just the memory of that day enough to quell it.

"You broke the arms of three agents and dislocated the jaw of a fourth."

I shrugged, the cooling blankets on their own not enough to keep me warm any longer and my teeth began to chatter. "They assumed I was defenseless. They were wrong." They had tried to take me by force when I hadn't wanted to go in willingly. I'd known I would not be able to escape so I took as many of them out as I could before I went down. The shivers got worse, my entire body suddenly feeling icy inside and out. The young man before me doubled, both copies blurry. "I don't feel so good."

He hesitated for all of a second. "Bloody hell. Simmons," he shouted.

An instant later the door slid open and a young woman entered. "She's having a reaction. We've seen this before."

I didn't much care, the entire world tipped sideways and it took me with it. I failed to remain on the bed and ended up on my side on the floor all my limbs twitching and convulsing.

"Hold on." Simmons squatted down next to me, I could feel her, the heat coming through her clothes and off her skin. She shifted my head, moving my hair and pressed something against the back of my neck. I could feel the gloves she wore, but it didn't matter I always see everything, see all she might do in the near future and could do nothing to prevent it in my current condition.

One sharp pain later and warmth suddenly enveloped me. I flinched, wanting to yelp because it had hurt like nothing I'd experienced before, but that unpleasant sensation of having been in an ice bath for the last six hours vanished as the heat radiated out from the spot in my neck.

As she moved to shift away my hand snapped out and wrapped about her covered wrist. "Wait at the light. Slow count of ten minimum."

She jerked out of my grip, staring at me with a shocked expression on her face. She quickly stood and backed away, leaving me there on the floor staring up at the pair of them.

"I thought she had to touch skin?" she whispered to him.

As the tremors in my limbs eased I slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position. "Like they ever bothered to ask me." I had achieved the status of nearly human, enough that my stomach growled audibly, requesting sustenance it hadn't had in a year and a half. "I don't have to touch you or even be near you. Just focusing on a particular person can show me all that might happen." I rubbed my forehead, the headache already beginning to build behind my eyes.

She huffed out a breath, her one hand rubbing the wrist I had grasped. "Well, good to know you overcame the issues controlling your enhancement."

" 'Overcame'?" I mocked, then laughed bitterly. I'd never had to _control_ the ability. I just had to not get lost in the myriad what ifs that presented themselves to me. "Do you even have a clue what it is I can do?"

Simmons glanced over at the man, who hadn't bothered to give me his name. He had the entirety of my existence in his hands, least what the government could be certain of, and I knew nothing about him. Hardly seemed fair. So, I did what I did and focused my mind on him and his potential. In seconds I had all I needed and more. The poor man would be forced into some serious trials in the near future.

"They seemed to think you were simply very lucky, but that doesn't track with some of the incidents surrounding you," Fitz explained as he found the courage to look me in the eye.

"I'm not a Gorgon for fuck's sake, you can look me in the eyes without turning to stone." I hated that people feared me or my gift, and yeah I blamed them. Not my fault I had the genetic quirk that permitted me to survive terrigenesis. I'd been one of the accidents. Taking supplements for my bad knees that years of abuse had destroyed only to break free of my stony cast reborn. Healthy for the first time in years and seemingly unchanged beyond that.

Until the visions began.

And the ongoing deja vu.

I saw _everything_.

And could do _nothing_.

"You see the future," Fitz summed up.

I shook my head. "I see _every_ future."

Simmons looked at me with such sympathy in her eyes and I knew it to be real.

Fitz snorted. "And what do you see in your future?"

I took a swift glance and discovered only darkness in most of the timelines, which meant…. Which meant I would most likely choose to go back to the amber. The few where I remained awake showed me a life I had no interest in. A virtual prisoner. My gift used for little more than a planning tool. I could see futures, but the instant one had been chosen, everything changed and it shifted again and again over and over and over. Admittedly, I'd gotten pretty good at manipulating things my way. A few lotto wins and I no longer had to worry about a job. Set up my family for life, the usual good deeds I could manage.

Then… then I'd gotten sloppy wanting to help others like me. Tugging on those strings had brought me up on the ATCU's radar and, while not violent per se, I refused to just roll over and show my belly for them. That asinine Inhuman Registration Act only making me angry and longing for a world where it would be unnecessary.

Trying to achieve that had been my downfall.

"A long winter's nap, apparently."

Fitz frowned, plainly not liking that answer.

"Why did you wake me up?"

He cleared his throat. "You are being formally requested to sign the IRA and the Sokovia Accords. If you do so you will be permitted to return to your home, monitored of course–"

"So my punishment for beating up some government goons has been paid?" I sneered, given I'd never been arrested or had anything even vaguely resembling a trial, I couldn't see how they'd expect any sort of cooperation on my part. What? Did they expect me to be grateful they'd saved me from the amber? "Are you doing this for every Inhuman or just the ones that might be useful to you?"

The pair glanced at each other guilt written all over them. "Does it matter?" Simmons finally asked.

I ground my teeth together. "Yeah. I think it does." I looked over the room again, that awareness turned on and weighing the options that presented themselves to me. "If I say no?"

"Ambered," Fitz seemed to finally understand I'd reached the crossroads. The decision here and now would dictate all those that came after. "Scheduled to be woken again in six months."

I laughed, bitterly. "My answer would be the same."

"There is another option," Simmons ventured, tone serious, but hope in her eyes.

"Use my gift for the good of the country?" Meaning have my ability abused to manipulate the world by someone who really didn't give a damn about it.

"The world, actually," Fitz corrected.

"It doesn't work that way. Not really. You can't manipulate all of reality, it'll just fuck things up worse than they already are." Not that I had any clue how they currently were being eighteen months out of touch and all.

They did that glance at each other again, somehow communicating without speaking aloud.

And in that instant, I realized I'd bitten the hook. I still had the opportunity to spit it out, but the window would be closing in the extreme near future.

Decision time.

"But you could help," Simmons stated all earnestness and cheer.

I rubbed my hands over my face taking the moments to peruse my realistic options. I chose my answer with all due care. "Potentially."

She clapped her hands in glee. "Good. How about some food. Wait. No. Have to give your body more time to adjust. 'Fraid it'll be an IV for the time being."

"I haven't agreed to anything," I pointed out.

"True, she hasn't." He looked at his partner whose smile had vanished.

The door slid open, the woman that had been in only two versions of my near future standing there. She wore civvies instead of the skin-tight uniform in the other option. "Maybe I can persuade her."

With a soft sigh of relief, I nodded. "Maybe you can."


	13. Inktober Day 13

Inktober Day 13: strange word  
Fandom: MCU (post CA:CW pre A:IW)  
Word Count: 590

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I'd had a bad day and just needed something to make me feel better so I did what always seemed to help lately; went for a run. Not on the streets of this exotic city, but through the wilderness that time seemed to have forgotten. Okay, so technically a park, with actual running and hiking trails, but people were few and far between and, given I stood out like a sore thumb in this country, the fewer people the better.

Don't get me wrong, the people here had done… continued to do everything in their power to help me even though I could in no way deserve it. Since Steve had found me in Bucharest I had caused nothing but pain and heartache to so many others.

I knew the true fault lay elsewhere, but it didn't stop me from feeling the guilt and wanting to make what reparations I could.

If they would permit me to do so.

I'd been assured I could leave whenever I wished, they simply discouraged me from doing so, citing any number of reasons including my ongoing mental issues. Between the PTSD, the memories that assaulted me on a daily basis, and feelings of utter worthlessness, I had entire days where I wanted to do nothing more than curl up and avoid life in general and mine in particular.

The docs, mainly the shrink, a sweet man who truly seemed to want to help me, gave me projects to work on, exercises for me to complete, ones to facilitate the memories becoming more cohesive and less jumbled. He suggested I try to normalize my days.

Such a strange word normalize.

Especially when applied to someone like me.

Having a regular sleep schedule of little to use to someone who only needed to sleep a few hours a week. I'd slept for years, hell they'd woken me up from yet another slumber, this one my choice at least. I should have known I wouldn't be under all that long. No way Steve would just let me go so soon after getting me back.

So I followed the docs advice. Ate regular meals, joined in on training with the Wakandan warriors, at the request of T'Challa no less.

No one, and I mean no one, treated me as anything other than a guest of their King. No snide comments or sideways looks, nothing other than common courtesy, which I endeavored to give back to them.

I had no fucking idea what normal was.

So, when I couldn't handle the real world, when I gave up pretending to be normal, I ran.

Until the clothes clung to my skin. The racing thoughts of my mind slowed to near nothing even as my heart rate sped up until I feared it would burst from my chest. Deeper and deeper into the jungle, the ground reaching ever upward until the end.

A cliff face, the drop hundreds of feet into the rushing water below.

I always experienced a moment of vertigo when I stopped. A sensation of falling deep in my gut.

A knew that sensation.

I dreamed about it.

I remembered it.

The freefall. Staring up into a cloud covered sky. The wind created by gravity pulling me down and away from my only hope.

Standing there a the edge of this piece of the world part of me wanted to experience it again. To take just one more step and just simply fall.

Instead, like always, I simply turned away and ran back the way I'd come.


	14. Inktober Day 14

Inktober Day 14: Ideal Afternoon  
Fandom: MCU AU  
Word Count: 1314  
Notes: Trying to bang these out and ended up visiting my MCU altiverse.

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I stretched my fingers out, burying them in the thick grass, the bright sunlight glinted off the chrome, the hand reflecting the blue of the nearly cloudless sky arching high above. The late spring heat enough to encourage one to wear short sleeves and possibly shorts, though I generally only wore those when working out these days. The former I currently wore. The latter I did not. No, I preferred denim; so an overpriced pair of jeans covered my lower half.

A hand settled atop mine, fingers tracing along the ridges on the back of mine. I lifted our hands up, fingers twining together and pressed my lips against the back of hers. I had always appreciated the fact that she didn't care one of my arms had been replaced with an artificial one. An extremely high tech one, admittedly, but still not real flesh and bone.

"Want another–"

"James, if I eat another bite I'm going to burst."

She had hardly eaten a thing. Unlike myself. I'd been starving and had killed off a fair amount of the meat, cheese, and fruit that had been packed into the basket. We'd finished one bottle of wine and part of the second. Supposedly there were some sweets buried in there as well, but I doubt we'd be indulging in the near future. Least not if I couldn't convince her to stay a while longer.

"You thinking about running out on me, doll?"

"And if I said yes? I do have a lot of work to do," she told me, sounding at least half serious.

I knew she had a ton of stuff to deal with for the new gaming console release, all of Cyko did, but that's not why Hattie had come to me. No, she'd been worried that her boss hadn't been out of the building in ages. When I'd learned that Rinn hadn't come up out of her cave for fours days I'd decided to drag her out one way or another.

I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "Yes, you do, but you promised me the afternoon." I tipped my head up to see the sun still well above the tops of the mountains and guesstimated it to be about two in the afternoon. "I'm pretty certain that means until I can see stars overhead."

"Technically you can see one right now."

I chuckled softly even though I knew she was trying to irritate me so that I'd let her go back inside. "Laurin, when was the last time you went out?"

"I went out just–" She stopped, face scrunching up in an endearing manner as she thought about it then sighed heavily. "I guess that meeting in Prague."

"So a few weeks." Not good. She had made it too far for any of us to allow her to backslide.

"Not on purpose. I think." She shrugged. "I just wasn't needed for some of those meetings and–"

"And you have a lot of work to do. No one is denying that, but you need to be cautious. I know how easy it is to fall back into old patterns. This one is not good for you." We all worried about her, but it had somehow fallen upon my shoulders to keep her on the straight and narrow. Not that I minded all that much as it meant I got to spend time with her outside of jobs for her or her company.

And I liked spending time with her.

She ducked her head down avoiding my eyes. "I've had a rough couple of weeks," she admitted.

Meaning when she had been able to sleep it had been disturbed with bad dreams, which had encouraged her to avoid sleeping and she tended to do that by working harder as a distraction from the images in her head that just would not go away. "Thought we agreed to help each other with things like that."

"You were working for some of them and… and I was hoping to get through it myself," she told him, sounding guilty.

And instead, she'd backslid and gone back to hiding and avoiding everyone. "Doll, you never have to go through another night alone if you don't wish to."

"James I can't impose–"

I set my fingers, my metal fingers over her lips, silencing her remaining words. "You can. If not me Steve, If not Steve, Sam or Wanda. You know this, or should. We're in this together." I moved my hand to her cheek, her eyes drifting shut even as she frowned ever so slightly, fine wrinkles appearing between her brows signally the confused emotions that she currently experienced.

"But we're not. Not really. You guys do your thing and I do mine and we only occasionally meet in the middle." Those green eyes opened and bore into mine, waiting for the challenge to her words.

I found that middle ground. "Not talking work here, doll, talking life, friendship."

She huffed out a breath and sat up, arms wrapping about her legs as if suddenly cold. "The work needs to be done. They have to be ready."

I sat up and scooted next to her, shoulder to shoulder, a reminder that she did not have to go through this alone. My skills might not help all that much, but I could hold her hands when she had her moments of doubt. "You'll figure this out."

"I haven't in a decade, I doubt another year or two will make a difference."

So that was the current cause of her distress. She'd given up on trying to save herself and had instead turned to making certain everyone else would be set up for life. "Ah, darlin' I'm so sorry." I remained still and waited. It took a few minutes, but she eventually uncurled from her tight ball of misery to coil her arms about me and bury her face in the side of my neck. "Sorry I've screwed up your ideal afternoon efforts."

"Hey now, don't be saying that. I got to spend it with you didn't I?" A luxury she granted to only a select few.

She pulled back slightly to look me in the eye. "How is it you are so kind after all the horrible things that have happened to you?"

I had no clue, but she had a point, my heart hadn't hardened during the long years of torture and memory wiping. I still wanted to see the world as a place for hope. Still wanted to grant and fulfill that emotion in others. So I pushed the pain and anger and hurt aside and did what I could to ease those same feelings in everyone else. Those I cared about anyway. "I always thought Steve was that shining beacon of hope."

She snorted. "He has nothing on what you can do."

I wanted to take those words at face value but knew I had changed far too much from the man I once had been. "You're biased."

"Yes, I am. Doesn't make it any less true."

I kissed her temple, lingering longer than I should simply because I wanted to touch her. I could easily turn this into something of a distraction for both of us, but she needed to talk, to vent the emotions she'd been bottling up the last few weeks, else she would retreat into that dark place in her mind that few of us could reach. Best to nip another incident like that in the bud.

"You and me are gonna go out, together, at least once a month."

The confused look on her face made me want to laugh. "A date night?"

And suddenly it became noticeably warmer even though the strength of the star above hadn't changed one whit. I blushed, I hadn't intended the suggestion that way, but apparently part of me liked that idea quite a bit. "Would that be a problem?"

She leaned forward to press her lips gently against mine. "No. Not a problem at all."


	15. Inktober Day 15

Inktober Day 15: fav ink  
Fandom: The Invisible Man (TV, 2000) AU  
Word Count: 1929  
Notes: This thing is massively AU and way-forward in my timeline. However, this can be read on its own. _Sweet Dreams_ is kinda sorta a prequel to this one.

.

 _"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."_ – Joseph Campbell (1904 - 1987)

.

 _"I can't do this," he told me voice pained, look dour._

 _"Why not?" I asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Yeah, the situation not one any of us could have anticipated, but here we stood, me alive and him pushing me away. Pretty much the last thing I had expected after everything we'd been through over the years._

 _"Why not? You're sixteen for fuck's sake." He shook his head, backing away slightly even though I could feel he wanted to do the exact opposite._

 _"Sixteen? How do you figure–"_

 _"That body is only sixteen," he growled at me, teeth clenched and jaw popping in his ire._

 _"And I looked sixteen the day we met at the Agency, why does it matter?" The hows and whys I had looked close to a third my real age when we'd met long and complicated and not necessarily some of my better memories._

 _"Because you weren't sixteen." He snapped a hand out at me. "She… you are."_

 _I ran a hand across my face in frustration. Two levels of frustration. I mean, I could see his point. A man in his fifties, no matter that he looked a decade younger, with a woman who clearly could be his young daughter. There would be questions asked that could not be answered. never mind the whole thing of she, me, this body not really existing. The only known records about her existence in our possession, the rest wiped from reality. She'd been born as part of an extraordinarily illegal experiment and had spent years living under false identities with caretakers who had no clue what she would become._

 _None of which mattered in the here and now. She no longer existed, only I did in what had been her body._

 _I could feel he would not back down. The mores of his youth making even the thought of us being together an abhorrent one. He wanted me, wanted the two of us to be together, but his conscience refused to permit him to act upon it. "Okay. Do you want me to move out?"_

 _He flinched. "No. Hell, no. I never want to let you out of my sight again." Christ, the pain at even the thought of me leaving damn near broke my heart._

 _I went to him, set a hand on his cheek, his eyes sliding shut, such desperate sadness written on his features. "Never. I will never leave you again. I promise." My words only eased his anxiety the tiniest of amounts. He'd lost me too many times already, he knew it could happen again no matter what words of placation I gave to him. "I'll move into the other suite."_

 _Too far away based on the sudden loneliness drifting from him to me, but he still nodded. "Yeah, that'll work I guess." He didn't want me out of his sight for any longer than necessary, but the compromise seemed to ease the worst of his concerns._

 _. . ._

I opened the front door to be greeted with balloons covering the floor. All bright colors and sizes giving me a momentary flashback to a Valentine's Day where he'd done something similar. For an instant, I had no idea when I was. Living in this body had been an interesting experience and sometimes a disconnect still occurred. I'd spent too much time living within the 'net, a connection that hadn't been fully broken when my consciousness had settled into this body, and every now and then I lost track of the mundane and forgot how to be a person. Weird, but given nothing like this had ever happened before, glitches could only be expected.

"Dare?" I called out as I waded through the balloons which must have taken hours to fill and that led me out to the deck in the backyard. He'd kept the house all the years I'd been gone. The one he'd bought the first Christmas after Ben had been born.

I stopped dead at the sight before me. Streamers and lights and cake meaning I clearly had missed a memo somewhere along the way because I had no idea what the devil all this had been done for.

"You're early," he groused.

"Class was canceled so I just did a workout and came home." I turned about to see him frowning in a suit I hadn't realized he owned. He looked amazing. He didn't dress up often, preferring jeans and tees, but when he did he always looked scrumptious. "What's all this?"

He moved closer, eyes boring into mine. "Happy birthday," he said then leaned in to kiss me. Really kiss me, something he hadn't done since I'd first woken up in this body.

I stepped back. "Uh, it's not my–" I cut myself short realizing that while my birthday wouldn't happen for several months yet that it could possibly be that of the body I'd taken over. "Oh. I hadn't realized… Are you sure?"

"Exactly no. But they've narrowed it down to a specific week and this is the last day of it. Seemed safer." He shrugged, a grin spreading across his face, then he pounced. His lips found mine again and assuring me of his intent.

I pushed him away. "D, I stink. Let me at least show–"

"Don't care," he growled, pupils had blown wide in that arousal he'd been denying himself for the better part of two years now.

"Dare," I laughed as his teeth grazed on that sensitive spot under my ear. My control crashed, his emotions, his desperate need of me dragging me under until I no longer cared about anything but him, about us.

. . .

"You know I had everything planned out. Dinner. Dessert. Even wine for the birthday girl."

I chuckled, glancing back over my shoulder at him. I'd finally gotten that shower, but it had been after. After he'd made it quite clear that he loved me and wanted me and that while the waiting had been difficult it had been more than worth it. "I'm pretty certain I still need to be twenty-one for that."

I turned about, dropped the towel off my back, brushed my wet hair over my shoulder and angled my body to see the reflection. My back nothing but smooth skin, no scars, no tattoos. I could still feel the tightness in my memory, the constant ache of that shoulder especially as I'd gotten older. Working through the knots and the pain that the scar tissue had left behind.

"You miss 'em?"

"Miss what?" I let my gaze wander over him. The sheet covering the bare minimum that propriety required, which I found amusing given the way his eyes lingered on me.

"The tattoos," he finally said, meeting my eyes with his serious ones.

"Some of them. I don't miss the scars some of them covered up, have to admit that." I rolled my shoulder, reveling in the lack of discomfort. By the time I'd died I'd been riddled with old scars that would only have caused me more trouble as I aged. Being able to start over in a fresh new body, one I could hopefully keep undamaged almost a relief. I liked the idea of not having to live with constant pain. The memory of it I could survive.

"Well you can always have them done again," he suggested.

"I've thought about it," I admitted, "but while I could talk people into doing my piercings, no one was willing to do the tatts." I walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. "This reliving my youth thing has its disadvantages."

He chuckled, taking one of my hands into his and tracing his fingers along mine. "Which one is your fav ink?"

I took his right hand into mine and ran my index finger along the snake there. "This one."

"My monitor? Why that one?" he sounded justifiably confused.

"Because it's the one that brought me to you."

"And now you're stuck with this old man," he said bitterly as if hating the fact that he hadn't been able to let me go.

"Exactly where I want to be," I assured him.

"Good to know." He rolled and went digging about in the nightstand, when he shifted back he had a ring in his hand. Not just any ring, but my wedding band. An ouroboros with one green and one red eye. "I know we can't get married, given you kinda don't exist and all, but I thought–"

"Yes. Hell yes."

He gave me the sweetest smile I have ever seen as he slid the ring into place on my left hand, his lips followed, kissing each of my fingers, then the back of my hand, up my arm.

I laughed. "Do you still have your ring?" He'd worn it for a full year after I'd died, then I hadn't seen it in the years since, including those I'd been back.

He nodded and dove back into that drawer, coming up with a ring box which he handed to me. I opened it to find his wedding band inside. It had the top slot, mine had obviously been in the lower one until just a few moments ago. "Why did you take it off?"

Guilt flickered across his face for all of an instant. "You were gone, and it was time. Except… except you weren't gone, were you."

We had both avoided this conversation the entire time we'd been learning to live together again. Turned out my being too young not the only issue. He hadn't believed that I could still be in love with him after everything I'd been through. "No, I wasn't."

"So why didn't you tell me?" The pain in his voice surpassed only by the emotional wave that broke across my senses.

"That's why. I did hang around, for about six months. Took me a while real-world time to figure out what had happened and the first place I came was here. You weren't great, but dealing and then… then…"

"I started dreaming about you three months… after," he whispered hoarsely. "They didn't go away for close to a year."

"Which is why I left." I picked up the ring he'd put away when he'd finally been able to let me go. "You have no idea how many times I wanted to let you know I was there, that I still lived in some form, but you would have kept holding on, and never would have moved forward."

"I never let you go, not really."

"I know, and I'm sorry for that. You hurt less when I wasn't there, so I stayed away as much as I could." I grasped his left hand and slid the ring back into place, not the least bit surprised that it still fit. "I'm here as long as you want me."

He choked on a sob then pulled me to him, arms wrapping around me tightly. "Always." he pulled back, a sneaky grin on his face. "We could always go to Vegas and elope again. No one will care who the fuck we are."

"Are you asking?" I liked that idea. My forged documents would hold up at one of those drive-thru chapels.

"And if I am?" tone defiant.

"Then I'm saying yes."

He whooped in glee then dove in for a most thorough kiss.

We didn't come up for air for quite some time.


	16. Inktober Day 16

Inktober Day 16: Affirmation  
Fandom: MCU (post CA:CW not canon compliant)  
Word Count: 500  
Notes: I'm banging these out quick as I can to get caught up, so this is little more than a scene.

.

 _I am in control of what I think. I am in control of my life._

I sighed heavily and read the words again with a frown. "Does this shit really work?"

I glared at Steve who sat there looking all kinds of innocent. "That's what all the books say."

"Then why do I feel like an idiot reading these, nevermind saying them out loud?" I'd never been much of an optimist, especially not the last few years, but I tried not to assume the worst either. I'd been on the run for enough years that I never really relaxed and always remained aware of everything that occurred around me. Always had an escape plan, just in case. Always covered my tracks.

Always protected myself.

I had to.

No one else would.

Okay, so that used to be true. Now I had a whole group of people, hell an entire country willing to watch my back for me and I had no clue as to why. Sam had been the one to suggest these stupid things. Affirmations, he called them. Some crap about positive thoughts causing positive changes.

All I could be positive about was feeling like an idiot when I did as requested and repeated that day's asinine selection three times.

Yesterday's reading, _I forgive those who have harmed me in my past and peacefully detach from them_ , had caused me to throw the tablet across the room, lodging it firmly into the metal of the wall. Sam had agreed it might have been a bit too soon for that particular selection.

"At least you're getting help," Steve muttered, still more than loud enough for me to hear.

"Wait? Are you saying you didn't?" I sat up straighter, set the tablet aside, the idiotic quotes forgotten.

He shrugged, not even glancing over at me. "Until I met Sam, not really. Everyone just assumed that as Captain America I'd be just fine. I mean, I'm not exactly human so why treat me like one, right?"

The bitterness in his voice made me want to wince. The damage done to me much more obvious given the mind wipe machine, metal arm, and everything else that had come to light in the last few months. But Steve, he'd simply woken from a long nap and been thrust right back into the middle of things. Back into a war, he'd never asked to be a part of. And knowing him he'd simply squared his shoulders and endured like always. The stubborn fool. Why ask for help when there were obviously others who needed it far more.

Same old Steve Rogers.

"You know, you might benefit from doing these too. Least then I won't have to suffer through the embarrassment alone."

He shot me an unreadable look, blue eyes wide then nodded slowly. "If it'll keep you from breaking the walls…"

I snorted. "No promises. Plus there's always the chance you'll get to do your share of damage."

That got me the grin I'd been hoping for.


	17. Inktober Day 17

Inktober Day 17: Comfort Food  
Fandom: MCU (Post CA:CW)  
Word Count: 651  
Notes: Another little interlude with a Bucky recovery-type scene and a dash of domesticity for funsies.

.

"What is that smell?" I toed off my shoes and left them by the door, right next to three other pairs, two of which weren't mine. The scents wafting throughout the apartment weren't bad per se, but definitely potent and far too strong for the confined space. And my nose. Being enhanced meant everything in my case, including my sense of smell.

Granted I didn't exactly smell like flowers right now, but two hours of sparring will do that to anyone if they're actually putting in the effort.

And I had. Usually did after my sessions with the shrink. The little I could manage to articulate only the tip of a gigantic iceberg that constantly threatened to tip over and drown all nearby in the violent waves created. So I ran. Or hit things, generally heavy bags. Or sparred with those who could handle a decent punch, or in this case, fought with a style so unique that I actually had to work to keep up. Strength, not an advantage when speed and flexibility came into play. And damn these people were fast. Little wonder their King, the Black Panther, had nearly taken me out in Bucharest.

I enjoyed the challenge, especially after a session with the docs. Having to focus on not taking a knee to the face a perfect distraction from the everything trying to spill out of my head.

I crossed the room and opened the doors that led out onto the balcony, permitting the moisture-laden air to swirl into the suite and displace some of the overpowering scents of… cabbage?

I shuffled into the kitchen. "Rogers, what are you doing?"

He hunched his shoulders for an instant. "Doc called after you left. Suggested you'd had a tough time, so I thought…"

He trailed off when I stiffened. I hated that everyone worried I would go off like an unexploded IED. Yeah, I had a fuckton of shit to work through, but aside from some serious depression had generally handled the day to day stuff pretty well. Reintegrating into society as best as I could as a semi-normal human. No, I would never have a boring job at some boring company and go home to a boring life with a boring wife, but I had never really expected to either. Figured I'd die in that war, which I had, just hadn't been able to plan for the surprise resurrection and subsequent time travel.

"You thought what?" I prompted. I hadn't meant to get my back up. I knew the doc couldn't tell anyone what we'd discussed unless I specifically gave him permission, but he hadn't been wrong in thinking I'd been in a shit mood when I'd left his office. I wore my gym clothes to those sessions because they always ended the same; me angry and depressed and needing to burn off those emotions before returning to the apartment I shared with Steve.

He sighed. "That comfort food might help," he answered tone dark as if waiting for me to deride him for trying to make me feel better.

I eased about him to look within the depths of the giant pot to see the expected cabbage along with potatoes, and a huge lump of pink meat. "Ooo, corned beef and cabbage. Where the hell did you score that cut?"

His shoulders settled back at my positive reaction. "Had to have it delivered special."

"You did that for me? Just 'cause I had a bad session?"

He met my eyes and nodded. "Yeah, Buck." He gave the concoction a final stir and set the spoon aside, placing the lid back on the pot.

I clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks. Now I'm gonna go shower before my stink starts competing with the boiled cabbage."

Steve laughed, but the tightness about his eyes gave away his worry and I could only wonder exactly what the doc had told him.


	18. Inktober Day 18

Inktober Day 18: mishap  
Fandom: MCU/ AoS  
Word Count: 1355ish  
Notes: So, I'm revisiting a character from an earlier short, who finally gets a name.

.

Jemma entered the room, tablet clutched to her chest, took one look at the situation, which included both a table and chairs knocked over, copious amounts of blood and her charge balled up in the far corner.

"What the bloody hell?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Fitz whose eyes narrowed dangerously as he clearly interpreted the scene in the same manner she had.

"Just a small mishap."

Jemma whipped her head around to aim a deadly glare at Talbot. "A small mishap? She's practically catatonic."

"Which is why I had you brought in. You're her handler you should be able to bring her out of it. Or that's what the file claims."

"I… we are not her handler," Jemma snarled. "Fitz, did you bring them?"

"Of course." He pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She opened it to see the two sensors inside. Now she just had to convince her compatriot to permit to attach them.

After shooting one last glare at Talbot, which he returned with ill grace, Jemma walked over to the young woman seated on the floor and knelt down beside her, setting the tablet aside. She wouldn't be needing it right now. Normally, she would have taken the time to put on gloves to reduce the chance of her future being shoved into Cass's mind, but even Jemma could tell she had gotten trapped in whatever future she'd been tasked to find. With a gentle touch, she lifted the woman's chin and placed a sensor on each temple, tapping at just the right spot to activate them, the blue light showing her success.

Cass hadn't even acknowledged her presence, just kept chanting the same phrase over and over, "Death is coming."

"Fitz?"

"Data is coming up now." He shot a dangerous look at Talbot moderating it only slightly when he turned to Jemma. "I've never seen her readings this high."

Jemma stood and glanced around the room, spotting the overturned mayo cart behind the overturned table. She stalked over to it and picked up the syringe and bottle that had been knocked aside. When she read the contents she growled softly under her breath. "How much did you give her?"

"That drug has been deemed safe for her use, by you if I recall correctly," Talbot sneered the last as if invoking her approval of the drug would shift the blame for this foolishness.

"This drug is experimental and by no means deemed safe, which I have clearly stated in all my reports."

"Yes, we've had some success increasing her ability with extremely small doses, but I suspect you wanted something more," Fitz damn near snarled. Both of them had come to like the sarcastic young woman they'd woken up just a few months prior. "How much did you give her?"

Talbot cleared his throat. "One cc."

Jemma's hand went to her forehead in utter dismay. "Ten times the normal dose. Are you trying to fry her synapses?"

"We needed information. She can get it for us."

"Not if she's dead," Fitz pointed out drolly. "What were you trying to learn?"

"That's classified," Talbot snapped, causing Fitz to snicker.

"I believe you will discover we are authorized to know."

Talbot glared but didn't argue. "This information does not leave this room."

Jemma returned to Cass, who hadn't changed position, head still upright, eyes seeing nothing in the room about her, same words slipping past her lips as if stuck, like a needle in the groove of a record. They would have to figure out a way to bump her out of it without causing any damage to her mind.

Provided no damage had already been done.

"Well," Jemma prompted, needing to know what rabbit whole Talbot had sent Cass down.

He huffed in irritation. "We were trying to ascertain the location Banner and Thor."

Flitz glanced up from his tablet to look at the general. "Thor is off-world, probably Asgard."

"Never mind the fact that his leaving took place in the past," Jemma reminded with a tsk of annoyance.

"Which doesn't mean she can't see where they will be tomorrow."

"Which obviously didn't go as planned." Jemma set her fingers against Cass's wrist, her heartbeat only slightly elevated.

"Obviously," Talbot mimicked. "She started babbling about Asgard going to hell, which doesn't answer the question."

"It would suggest Thor is going to be on Asgard," Fitz pointed out, one eyebrow quirking upward.

"But when?" Talabot complained. "Why does she have to speak in riddles?"

Jemma's lips quirked upward for an instant. "I don't think you realize how much she sees. Every possible future related to the given subject. She has to weed through all that information and try to interpret it and then describe it in manner others can understand. Of course, that's when not on a massive overdose of the enhancement drug."

The man a complete and total fool. He had no idea how Cass's power functioned. Little wonder he had no clue how to understand her answers.

"Well, bring her out of it."

"We can't until the drug wears off." Fitz tapped his screen and frowned at whatever had been revealed.

"Well, then can you get something useful out of her? This 'death is coming' isn't of much use without context."

Jemma frowned but nodded. Cass's gift would not release her until she'd seen all she could. "I'll try." She glanced back at Fitz. "You recording?"

He nodded. "She's stable for now, I'll let you know if it's too much for her."

"Good enough." Jemma took Cass's hands into her own. "When? When is death coming?"

Cass's words cut off mid-sentence, a groan dragged from her as her ability sought the answer. "Pink snow is falling, but the sky is blue."

Talbot grunted as if kicked. "Pink snow? That makes no sense."

"Actually, it does, provided she doesn't mean literal snow."

Jemma caught on. "Cherry blossoms. That would make it late spring." she turned back to Cass. "But where?"

"DC." The two letters sounding as if torn from her throat. "He wants us all dead."

"Who?" Talbot questioned, making it sound like an order.

"Death."

Talbot rolled his eyes. "We have the Avengers."

Cass's back arched, all but convulsing as her gift demanded her full attention. "Gone. Torn apart. Reality twisting about itself. Nothing the same after."

"Which Avengers?" Jemma asked with only a hint of hesitation in her voice.

Cass whimpered. "We've lost our Captain," she told them in a tiny broken voice.

"Captain? You mean Rogers? He's not an Avenger." Talbot seemed almost gleeful being able to say that aloud.

Cass's head snapped about to stare unseeing at him. "Reality bends. He is there. And there. And–" Her words cut off as her entire body writhed, eyes rolling back into her head as the vision became too much for her.

"Bloody hell," Fitz muttered. "She can see into the multiverse."

"What the hell does that mean?" Talbot asked, a worried glance at the girl Jemma tried to comfort through the seizures.

"It means she is going to die if we don't get this under control," Jemma informed him, tone harsh. "Cass, sweetheart, tell me what is Coulson having for lunch tomorrow."

"Which Coulson?" Cass managed, through tightly clenched teeth. The convulsions had eased, but her entire body still remained pulled bowstring tight.

"Our Coulson. Your Coulson. The one who named you Oracle." Jemma glanced over at Fitz who gave her a tight nod.

"Most do," Cass informed her, but her body went suddenly boneless. "Probability ninety-eight percent he'll choose pastrami."

"Her neural function is returning to normal. The drug is wearing off." Fitz announced in relief.

"Sounds about right, it being Thursday after all." Jemma helped Cass sit back up. "Now, why is death coming?"

Cass blinked several times then turned her head to look up at Talbot. "He wants the gems." Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out cold.

Jemma made certain her vitals were acceptable before turning on Talbot. "Did you get what you wanted?"

Talbot didn't flinch under her icy glare. "Actually, I think I did." Then he left the room, leaving them to clean up his mess.


	19. Inktober Day 19

Inktober Day 19: doppelganger  
Fandom: The Invisible Man (TV, 2000) AU (I revisited the future fic I haven't yet written with this one)  
Word Count: 1.1k  
Notes: This could have gone MCU/AoS easily given an entire season of LMD to play with, but I-Man won.

Notes part deux: In the great external crash of 2017 I lost all my widescreen caps of season 1 I-Man (or, if I have them I haven't found them yet) so sad 4:3 ratio it is.

.

It took the better part of a week to actually get a moment with dad. We may have only lived half a state apart, but we both had jobs and lives that kept us busy. He had a project that could not be put off, but that had been near completion, so as soon as he let me know he had time to spare I flew down.

He made dinner and I showed him the most recent pics of his granddaughter, regaling him with her rambunctious exploits. We talked via video weekly, though we got together maybe a dozen times a year. The whole family still local for the most part, but my siblings tended to be caught up in Agency business, so family gatherings, while mandatory, only happened twice a year.

He leaned back in his chair, hands settling on his stomach. He still appeared fit, old habits not dying even as the grey hairs had begun to appear in his hair. He'd gone salt and pepper in the last couple of years, but could still climb the side of a multistory building with surprising ease. He could have let himself go, gained weight, sat around drinking, watching TV and not giving a damn about anything, but he'd kept going.

For which I had been eternally thankful.

"So, why the sudden need to visit dear old dad?"

He had that suspicious glint in his eye that I knew well. He may not have been a spy in years, but he'd not forgotten anything he'd learned. I took a swallow of my beer to cover my discomfiture. I had no clue how to start this conversation.

 _*Just ask him. He can handle it.*_

Yes, mom had come along for the ride. Nearby electronics connected to the 'net all she needed to communicate with me. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter. "You showed me a video after mom died."

Dad's face went utterly blank. He still had issues talking about mom, so while we didn't avoid talking about her, we did tread carefully when with him.

"Yes."

"You said there was something we needed to do, but, unless I'm mistaken we never did it."

He sat there frozen for a long moment then jerkily got to his feet to pace the room, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

 _*Lie,*_ mom told me as if uncertain I wouldn't think to do so on my own.

I shrugged. "Been dreaming about mom recently and pulled up that video to watch. Reminded me about that discussion is all." I looked him right in the eye, avoiding any of the tells I had when telling an untruth. "It… feels important."

Those words broke dad out of his pacing to swing about to stare at me in shock. "How could you– That talent of yours," he concluded with a nod. "Come on, I have something to show you."

He led me upstairs to a former bedroom he'd converted into an additional office, only this one not dedicated to his work, but finding the girl my mom had told me about. A literal murder board took up one wall, with pictures and pins and strings connecting all the sightings. over the last several years. He handed me a tablet with more recent pictures of the now young woman.

I did a double take. She looked exactly like mom had at that age. Hell, when she'd died she'd still looked young enough to pass as a teenager. Some weird quirk in her genetics combined with her healing ability had kept her appearance nearly unchanged for decades. And I didn't mean like Rose and Dani looked like mom, or how Michelle, my daughter had inherited that same unique genetics.

She appeared to be an exact duplicate of mom.

"She's a doppelganger?" I questioned, though whether my dad or my sanity I couldn't be certain.

I heard mom laugh in my head, while dad shook his.

As one they said, "Clone," which had to be the weirdest thing ever. Though in truth not really, they'd done that exact thing any number of times when they'd both been alive.

Dad added. "She is the twin of that boy…" He trailed off, not willing or able to complete that sentence.

I focused on the images, giving my dad a moment to compose himself. The girl so similar to my mom except… "Her eyes are wrong."

"Yeah," Dad agreed, "her ability to Quicksilver isn't active so she has your mom's original blue eyes."

I'd never seen Mom with blue eyes, they had never been anything but silver in all the years I'd known her. I mean, I knew they hadn't always been, I'd inherited my blue eyes from her, I simply had trouble picturing her with them. But now I could. This stranger who looked exactly like my mom had at that age. "How long do we have to find her?" And by that, I meant save her. Fair bet someone wanted to use her, to take full advantage of those gifts that had not yet manifested.

"Months at most." He settled back against the desk, hands tucked deep into his front pockets. "Are you sure about this?"

"Do we have a choice? What will happen if they get to her first?" I doubted it would be anything good, which is why mom asked us to take on this burden. And a burden it would be. I could already get a sense of how much this had cost Dad, I couldn't even imagine how much worse it would get once we saw this stranger in person the first time.

He refused to meet my eyes, his firmly on the wood floor beneath his feet. "Of course we do. We could forget about all of this. She's nobody to us. No matter how much she looks like Alyx."

 _*Oh, Dare,*_ Mom whispered in my head, her words full of despair.

"Dad, mom asked us to do this for a reason, even if she never got the chance to tell us. I'm willing to see this through, are you?"

He slowly lifted his head, the pain in his eyes a living thing. "You'll be away from your family for weeks," he reminded, giving me that one last out.

I held up the picture. "She's family too. You must recognize that."

He nodded, the weight of the world dragging his shoulders down. "Yeah, she is. We'll leave in two days."


	20. Inktober Day 20

Inktober Day 20: quote to live by  
Fandom: MCU (post CA: CW)  
Word Count: 603  
Notes: Can be seen as a movie tag. Just a little scene between Steve and Sam.

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And she said, "Compromise when you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move. It is your duty, to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say, 'No, you move.' "

"Sam, did I make the right decision?"

Sam set his cup down on the table before turning to meet my eyes. "About Barnes? Wasn't like he gave you one, really. Can't say I blame him though, it's always easier to run away than face trouble head-on. 'Specially when the trouble is that big."

He didn't seem to blame Bucky for anything that had happened, including his temporary incarceration at the Raft. "Not what I was asking about actually."

Sam sat there in silence for several minutes before speaking. "Then what? You kinda had to follow up on the other Winter Soldiers and all." He ran a hand over his face. "I don't even wanna think about the damage Zemo coulda done with them. Or worse Ross. I'm not sorry they're dead if that's what's bugging your Captain America sized conscience."

I shook my head wondering how to ask this question without him wondering if my sanity had cracked in the last couple of weeks. "No. The Accords. The Avengers. Making us all fugitives."

"Oh, that," Sam stated sagely. "Was wondering when you'd start second-guessing yourself."

At the time, there had been too much going on to really stop and think about my options. Peggy lost to me, Bucky blowing up, not just a UN meeting, but the one for the signing of the Accords. I kept coming back to that service, Sharon reminiscing about her great aunt, a shock of course, but proving her skills in spycraft, and saying those words that resonated with me in a way few others over had.

 _'No, you move.'_

It had only firmed my decision about the Accords. Hell, a quote to live by that pretty much described my entire existence. Just… somewhere along the way, I'd forgotten that. Not a perfect soldier. A good man.

Only now this good man had no clue what to do. Tony had been right, I couldn't sit back and watch the world devolve into chaos, had to help if I could. Captain America had been able to do that. Steve Rogers, the runt of the Brooklyn litter, had failed any number of times. Heart of a lion, body of a sickly lamb.

And I'd had Bucky by my side for most of it.

"Did I fuck everything up?"

"Man, you, Steve fucking Rogers, believed it was wrong, and I gotta believe there was a reason for that." He twisted in his seat to face me directly. "Others did too." He pulled out his phone and waggled it at me. "Lots of reports of enhanced retiring, especially after word about the Raft got out."

"But–"

"No buts. No this ain't ideal, but we'll figure out." He nudged me with an elbow. "The one person the planet who should not be hiding us is. I'm pretty sure T'Challa is not doing it out of pity."

Fair enough. And he'd taken some serious heat from other tribal elders, but he'd shut it down quickly and kept us out of it even though he knew we would assist in any manner we could, including leaving. Yes, I trusted him to keep Bucky safe and keep me informed should the situation change.

And that pretty much meant I'd made a decision.

Sam knew it as well. "So, when do we leave?"


	21. Inktober Day 21

Inktober Day 21: Last Laugh  
Fandom: MCU/Marvel Comics  
Word Count: 853  
Notes: I have only a rough knowledge about "ghost Tony" from the comics, but it seemed the way to go for this particular story. And, yes, I could actually see this happening in the MCU.

.

Well, that hadn't gone as planned.

I mean, the chances of things ending great for any of us had been slim and none. We weren't on the front lines for nothing. It had been more than a city at stake, hell more than the world, it had been the fate of the entire fucking universe, or multiverse if you believed Strange.

And by the end we all had. Even with all the things I had seen over the years, I still hadn't expected what came for us.

Thanos, the Mad Titan, on a mad hunt for the Infinity Stones and the power he'd possess once he had acquired all of them.

We'd done everything we could, threw everything we had against him and… and…

I couldn't recall how it had all ended.

There'd been blood and explosions and I seemed to remember Rogers taking a bitch slap from the big bad himself that he'd hadn't gotten up from.

Steve had gone down, playing his preferred role of sacrificial martyr. Drawing the attention of Thanos so that we could fall back and regroup. When he'd barked his orders, none of us had argued or thought twice about it. As a tactician, no one was better. He could analyze a situation faster than FRIDAY, which I still found astonishing, especially during battle conditions.

Then again, he had perfected his skills in the midst of a world war Bet he never expected to use them in a war that took place across worlds.

I took a moment to let it sink in that Steve Rogers had died saving the rest of us.

A bubbling dangerous anger built up within me at that realization.

Captain America was gone.

Steve was dead.

I screamed in frustration. The sound echoing hollowly off the walls surrounding me.

I fell to my knees, wailed my distress to the uncaring universe and beat the floor until my hands ran red with blood.

I ended up sitting with my back against the wall, blood smeared across the floor and my clothes.

Well, didn't this just fucking suck.

Once my distress eased, the hitching in my chest fading to hiccups as I tried to suck in air, I became aware of the fact I had no clue where I had ended up and less idea of how I'd gotten there.

I delicately probed at my memory. We'd chosen to retreat. I'd cleared the immediate area then checked to make certain Cap had followed only to see him go down under that gauntlet-covered fist and there my recollection cut off in a hiss of white noise.

I'd simply woken up here.

Wherever the fuck here was.

"FRIDAY?"

" _Boss? Is that you_?"

I glanced down at myself, bloodied knuckles, bare feet and all, wondering just why my snarky computer sounded both confused and thrilled.

"Uh, as far as I know. Where the hell am I?"

" _Home_ ," her voice now subdued. " _Or as close as you could manage it_."

As close as I could… I pinched the bridge of my nose not having a clue what she referred to. Or… wait.

"Lazarus Protocol?" Experimental. Little chance of working, but within the realm of possibility given the work I had done with the BARF and complex AI matrices I had created. I just hadn't expected it to be needed for quite a few decades yet.

"Is Pepper okay?" No other questioned mattered right now.

" _Miss Potts is alive_."

A non-answer if I ever heard one, but it told me enough. She had survived where I apparently had not. I could live with that. Or not live with that as the case may be. "Why am I stuck in this construct?"

" _It's the default setting, you never had the chance– It hasn't yet been modified. You should be able to use the projectors in the workroom to interact_."

In the instant I thought about asking how, I moved, for lack of a better description, and appeared in the middle of my lab. It hadn't been touched in months. A layer of dust over everything, half-finished projects still sitting abandoned where I had left them. "How long?"

" _Six months, boss. It took longer than expected for the matrix to fully form. I… I…_ "

"Were you worried I'd left for good?" I strolled around the room, fingers running along surfaces without actually interacting with them. Not a single grain of dust stirring at my imperceptible touch. The static being generated by the light projectors not strong enough to permit to feel the surface under my fingers.

" _You, boss? You always find a way out. Even from death, apparently_." The snark ran deep, but I didn't mind too much all things considered.

I paused in front the darkened window when my reflection caught my eye. A blue glowing version of myself stood there. I didn't appear all that different, except for the whole ghost routine.

"Well, I guess I got the last laugh."

" _Boss_?"

I ignored the concern in her voice and turned away. I clapped my hands together noting it registered as if I had a body like a real boy. "We have work to do."

 _"Yes, boss._ "


	22. Inktober Day 22

Inktober Day 22: Foible  
Fandom: The Invisible Man (TV, 2000)  
Word Count: 1.5k  
Notes: Once again I used a random first sentence generator to kickstart this one and, you know what, I had a lot of fun with it.

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Under normal circumstances I would speak my mind, but, with a gun against my head, it seemed the best decision would be to keep my mouth shut.

Of course, my mouth had other ideas.

"Really? A .38? You couldn't find anything with real intimidation value?" I twisted my head to get a look at the hand holding the weapon. "Oh, that's why."

I heard teeth grind and the barrel of the gun tapped solidly against the side of my skull. I'd earn a goose egg for that smartass comment. "You will tell me who sent you."

I sighed softly and repeated the words I'd said several dozen times already. "No one sent me… Okay, if you wanna get technical hunger did. And my girl, who requested the best Italian in the city and since you have the highest Yelp reviews–"

His fingers dug into my shoulder. The jacket not doing much to protect against his expert use of the Vulcan Nerve Pinch. Granted I didn't conveniently pass out, but I squeaked and tried really hard to swallow my tongue.

" _Fawkes,_ _shut the hell up_ ," Hobbes whispered in my ear.

Somehow I hadn't lost the earpiece in the scuffle that had occurred when I'd walked right into the buy in the semi-private back corner booth all visible and playing innocent bystander to the hilt. Seemed our local mob boss had decided to expand into gun running, and with terrorists no less. Yeah, quick way to make a buck, but Lenny and Co. had made the classic mistake of a big fish in a little pond to that of a little fish in a huge motherfucking pond.

He'd get swallowed right up, probably get his business taken over on the local level and that would be bad for everyone here in this great city by the sea. The Official had glommed onto the move and sent us in to deal with it. Trouble began when we'd learned their security included thermal sensors that handled hot and cold.

We'd tried to get in twice before, both with and without invisibility, and the op had been blown both times early on.

So, after Keepy had made the sarcastic comment of, "Why don't you just walk in the front door," we'd decided to do exactly that.

Thankfully, they'd chosen to not go with the semi-traditional shoot first ask questions later even if it did mean I had to take a few more bruises to get the goods.

"You know, if ordering in person doesn't work for you I'll just have it delivered next time."

I heard Hobbes huff out a breath of exasperation. " _You get shot the 'Fish'll blame me. And I don't need another pay cut over your foibles_."

I choked on a laugh. Not that I wanted my partner to take the blame for something he didn't do yet again, but the put-upon tone just set me off.

"You find this funny? You will tell me who sent you or–"

"Or what? You'll kill me? You're gonna do that either way. Might as well get it over with." Time to move this forward, especially since I could hear raised voices in the other room. Looked like the buyers were a bit bothered about my presence and were probably considering bailing. Or, you know, shooting everyone, taking the guns and… running.

His eyes flicked in the direction of the sounds, his frown deepening at whatever he heard. "Don't move," he barked.

I rolled my eyes. "Tied to a chair here," I reminded. Why were Italian mob muscle so thick-skulled, aside from the need to take a hit and keep going standpoint?

He swore, holstered the weapon and stalked through the double doors and into the kitchen proper.

"Hobbesy, tell me the team is ready to move. It's about to boil over in here."

" _Yeah, Fawkes, just waiting for them to scatter_."

I heard a loud bang, not a gunshot, but metal pans hitting the floor. "Uh, Hobbes, I think they might just start shooting each other in here and not bother with the running away."

" _Fuck. Can you get loose and contain 'em_?"

I'd already been working on that, the Quicksilver coating my wrists, freezing up the ethernet cord he'd used instead of actual, you know, rope. "Yep," I informed Hobbes as I snapped the now brittle plastic and metal. I let the Quicksilver cover the rest of me and walked over to the kitchen to take a peek through the windows mounted into the doors.

Team A shouted in some middle eastern language while team B went with full-on Italian complete with hand waving. The weapons crates were stacked neatly in the walk-in cooler on a dolly all ready to be rolled out the door across the room. I snagged some silverware wrapped in a fancy cloth napkin, removed the bits for eating, and tied it around the looping door handles, sealing the doors with a reasonable effectiveness. "Route through the restaurant blocked." They gave him a quick rundown of where everyone I could see stood in the kitchen, what weapons were already out and at the ready, and what items were close enough to hand to be used. And there were more than a few. Pots, pans, knives, meant tenderizers shaped like vicious hammers, the place a virtual wet dream of spontaneous weaponry.

" _Okay, Fawkes, when I give you the go-ahead, spook 'em and we'll come in the back._ "

"And the front? If any of them charge this way I'm not exactly armed." Yeah, so I'd snagged one of the massive steak knives, but the tip was dull as piss and would do little against bullets.

 _"Monroe is handling the back, I'm coming in the front with a team of two, just in case_." He made it sound as if I should have known that.

Less than ten seconds later he gave me the go. I dropped the Quicksilver and knocked on the window to the kitchen. "Any chance I can get my meal to go?"

Everyone in the room froze for an instant before a dozen guns raised, all aimed at me. I grinned, Quicksilvered, and ducked to the side even as the bullets started to fly, impacting the heavy double doors. They must have been lined with metal as not a single bullet went through. The wood on my side did explode off into fine splinters as the core dented outwards, but that was it.

Feeling far more secure I scooted down the length server expo area and out the other end just as Hobbes and the two agents arrived to secure this exit. Over the next several minutes the sounds coming from the kitchen impressed me both with their volume and variety, It sounded like they'd let a very angry and armed moose into the room and locked the door behind him.

Hobbes kept his weapon aimed at the doors as he cautiously eased forward. I joined him as did not in any way flinch when a body flung itself into the windows, which were a fair five feet off the ground. They and my jury-rigged lock held, though the latter barely, the cloth tearing a bit before the body hit the ground, the doors bowed out slightly and putting a decided strain on the napkin's material.

I had to give them credit for spending the money on quality material.

"Monroe, you good?"

" _Clear. Suspects down. Package secure_." She paused then said, " _Get your asses in here. This is bigger than we thought_."

Hobbes whipped out his knife and cut through the napkin with deceptive ease. He kept his weapon out after opening the doors but holstered it as soon as he appraised the situation.

I looked over the top of his head, shocked at what I first thought was a gore-laden scene from a horror movie.

The smell gave the lie to that image. Spaghetti sauce had been splashed liberally over nearly every surface. One of the improvised weapons obviously involving a vat of the stuff, probably at full temperature, which would explain the pitch of some of the screams I had heard. Getting hit in the face with boiling hot pasta sauce not something I ever wanted to experience.

Bobby made his way over to Monroe, who had not gotten a single drop of the red sauce on her still crisp clothes, while I perused the mess, stepping with care over sleeping bodies, around agents who had not escaped unscathed from the flung sauce as they handcuffed everyone in the room, and ended up at oversized stove where other pots full of pasta-y goodness awaited. I snagged a garlic knot and dipped it into what looked and smelled like alfredo.

I groaned at the flavor. Too loud apparently as both Hobbes and Monroe's heads whipped about to glare at me. Monroe sighed.

"What, I'm hungry," I griped.

She shook her head while Hobbes chuckled. "Fawkes, try not to eat all the evidence, capiche?"

I nodded and dunked the bread into a pot of red goodness this time. "Capiche," I agreed. Not all, just enough to tide me over until I could get a real meal in a few hours. I had the feeling sorting this one out would take a while.


	23. Inktober Day 23

Inktober Day 23: Good Grief  
Fandom: MCU (post CA:CW)  
Word Count: 1079  
Notes: So, peeps seemed to like my side story expendable and I've been pondering expanding that one within canon as much as possible, which led to this happening. (No, the OC still doesn't have a name and may never get one.)

Notes the second: Yeah, I'm behind again. Had a fubar at work that cared nothing about my plans to write. Gonna try to get caught up today.

.

"Your fool of girlfriend just got herself into some serious shit," Sam announced out of the blue.

My first thought went to Sharon and how I probably couldn't, and more shouldn't consider her my girlfriend given how things had played out. Then the word fool registered and I realized he meant my ex who had never actually been a fool no matter how often I called her such for putting others, most specifically me, before herself.

"Expendable? What happened?" She should be perfectly fine back at the Compound, probably beating on a new round of trainees since she had turned out to be extraordinarily good at that.

"Holy mother, she's gotten herself blackballed from the Avengers that's what." Sam kept a finger on the tablet screen slowly scrolling through the information he's stumbled across.

I frowned, finding it hard to believe she would just walk out on a job she loved. Then again, I had, though, truth be told, I'd stopped loving it a while back, just took some time to sink all the way in and stick. But she had loved it. I'd learned that much in the months we'd been together. We'd parted on good terms, had remained friends after, but the job had come first and finding time to be alone with each other had become nearly impossible, so we'd taken that step back.

No harm, no foul as she had said. And now that unspoken thing between me and Sharon had become something more. Maybe. If I hadn't been named a traitor and a wanted fugitive for breaking into the Raft.

"Why would she do that?"

Sam's eyes went wide at whatever he read on the screen. " 'Cause, after you broke us out, Ross demanded that every avenger had to sign the Accords. Seems your girl took exception to that order. Oh… oh, and they claimed she's enhanced."

I shook my head. "She's not enhanced."

"Technically, with the way the Accords are worded, she is," Sam pointed out.

I reviewed that particular section in my mind and sighed. "By accident or design. But that's for situations like Banner and me, not a literal accident." No, she hadn't been born with her her incredible ability. Though an accident, a car accident that caused severe neural trauma, had. I'd done my homework on her after that incident that almost cost her her life though we'd never talked about it.

She had accepted who she had become and used it to her advantage every chance she got.

"Apparently, she wasn't the only one to take exception to the new requirements. A couple dozen stood with her that day. Ross must've gone ballistic."

Yeah, he would have. And take it out on all of them. "Why would she do this?" I mused aloud.

Sam choked on a laugh. "Oh, and it gets better. She gave them the _'O captain! my captain!_ ' routine. And someone got it on video." He spun the tablet about so I could see her climb up onto a table in the common area and loudly proclaim _O captain! my captain!_ like a chant to the entire crowd. Her team immediately followed her lead, which didn't surprise me at all.

And then, once she had everyone's attention, repeated the speech I'd given over the PA that fateful day in DC.

"Good grief," I muttered, not so much that she'd do such a thing, but that she'd been so damned blatant about it. "Wait? She was at the Triskelion? "

Sam flipped the tablet back around and most likely split the screen since I could still hear the video running on one side while he searched on the other. "Yep, she was. Still in new recruit phase, week six." He glanced up at me. "She saved three dozen people before the building collapsed. Ended up trapped for three days."

"The scars on her lower back and…" I trailed off not sure I should be making that particular observation aloud.

"Ass?" Sam offered up, trying to hide the grin of amusement.

"Yeah," I agreed. "She said they were from a training accident," I explained to Sam.

He snorted. "Accurate enough, she was still training."

How did I not know this? The details, I mean. I had asked and she'd waved them off as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. No, she had done exactly what I would have in the same position up to an including not making a big deal about it.

The video had continued to run, and based on the sound leading to the expected conclusion of her and all those who had stood with her being taken away by force. They hadn't resisted, the point quite clearly made, but her career with the Avengers over.

"The little fool," I muttered under my breath. "She still being held?" I asked as I shoved myself upright and paced the breath of the room, already creating preliminary scenarios on how to get her out depending on where she'd been confined.

"No, thankfully. Detained for a few days and released. She posted a couple videos online explaining her side of things. She's out of a job is all."

"And alone." I didn't like that, but she could handle herself.

Sam chuckled darkly. "Alone? The news is reporting almost four dozen have walked since that day. If they stay together she'll have a small army at her command." He looked over at me, an evil grin on his face.

"No. You will not reach out to her. She doesn't need the kind of trouble we'll bring down on her head."

"Man, have you met that girl?" The sardonic tone not lost on me. "She did this because of you." He waved at the tablet. "Your freaking speech and all."

I stopped dead and shook my head. "No, she believes in the ideal. Doing the right thing no matter the cost."

He tipped his head thinking about it, then gave me a slow nod. "That why you two break up?"

I had no answer for that. "No. Or, at least, not why I did. We were just too busy–"

Sam gave me a look that indicated I had no clue what I was talking about.

"C'mon, Sam, it wasn't like I ostracized her after. Her whole team is amazing, no way I wouldn't continue to work with them and put them on our missions. And she agreed to it." And now I had to second guess myself. Given what it took for us to actually begin dating, I wouldn't be shocked to learn I'd fucked up the breaking up part too.

"Steve, she agreed to it so you wouldn't lose focus. That girl is crazy about you and will do anything for you."

"Including–" I waved at the tablet.

"In a heartbeat. Yeah, she believes in the ideal, but who represents that ideal?"

I sighed. "Me."

"You," he agreed. "Though I kinda wish she'd stayed in."

"Why?"

He gave me a sly smile. " 'Cause then we'd know what's going on at the Compound."

Okay, good point, but she would show her true colors eventually and probably end up punching Ross in the nose.

"Still, she's free to do as she wishes. And if she happens to find us, that wouldn't be so bad."

"No, not so bad," I admitted.


	24. Inktober Day 24

Inktober Day 24: 3 best words  
Fandom: MCU AU  
Word Count: 1.2k  
Notes: And again I revisit the AU _only hero_ resides place not long after the short March 10, 1917.

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"So, the three best words you can hear."

I had no idea what prompted this semi-serious game of questions, but I didn't mind given I had everyone together and the lack of glares and popping jaws. I hadn't expected Tony to stay here at the Castle while installing the Arc Reactor but after a stroll through the expansive building chose a room near mine as his own. It did happen to be the best room in the house, the former owners had used it as their residence when the place had been a B&B. It lacked the fancy high tech amenities he had grown accustomed to, but it did have the advantage being near his friends.

The fact that he'd shucked his suits and put on jeans and one of his classic metal band tees had surprised me. I'd been expecting his usual contrary self, but he'd stopped being Mr. Stark and turned into Tony the minute he'd completed the day's work.

"I love you," Steve stated, and I could hear that he believed it.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Trite."

"Not in my day," Steve argued.

"God I hate to say this, But Stark's right. I love you has lost its luster. When everyone loves their lattes and cat memes, the meaning goes away." That came from Sam, which surprised me only a little though I couldn't argue the point.

"What about you, Rinn?" Tony tried to put me on the spot.

I shook my head. "Oh no, I am so not getting in the middle of this one."

"And why not?" Wanda asked.

" 'Cause I'll win." I gave James a wink, mostly to assure him I would be nearby, turned about and headed for the kitchen to catcalls and accusations of being chicken.

Once that died down they went back to the discussion at hand. I dug into the walk-in fridge while the conversation continued.

"So, if not 'I love you', how do you tell someone you care about them. In three words, of course," Wanda quickly added, reminding them to stick to the original challenge.

"You're an idiot," Sam instantly answered, earning laughs.

"There's a contraction in there, but I'll accept it as an answer." Tony sounded thrilled at the response, knowing as I did who that referred to. I wondered if Steve had blushed or did his stoic face.

I made my selections and began the prep work.

James suddenly spoke up. He usually didn't talk much when Tony was around. He'd gotten braver since we'd been stuck together at the Tower, but he still tended to tiptoe around the man. "Till the end of the line."

I could picture Steve's reaction to those words. That sappy sad smile on his face.

"Too many words," Tony complained. "Try again."

Several long seconds of silence followed. "What? We got along fine at the Tower."

I shook my head and let the conversation wash over me as each of them tried to come up with an answer that fit the criteria. I pulled out the pots and pans I would need and got to work.

I came up for air when Tony's ego started to get in the way. I tapped the comms behind my ear. "Steve, ask Tony about why Pepper uses the word strawberries with him."

He didn't respond, but the moment Tony paused for air he asked, "So, is that why Pepper says 'strawberries' to you when she's mad?"

I could practically hear Tony's mouth drop open in an 'O' as he processed what Steve had just said. Still, it didn't take him long to figure it out.

"No feeding them ideas, Rinn-Tin-Tin," he shouted, knowing I would hear him even without the comms.

I laughed as I opened the oven and slid the two pans inside. Yes, two. With two supersoldiers in the mix, a mountain range of food was required. I would usually have something like this catered, but Tony did not want it advertised that he was in Austria. Ross, especially, would have a cow, full-grown complete with horns, if he knew Tony was here giving aid to one Steve Rogers even if technically not true.

"So, strawberries is her way of letting you know she's mad?" Wanda asked, obviously curious.

I don't know that she'd ever met Pepper, who really did not want any involvement with the whole Avenger thing so I could understand her confusion. I set a timer, poured a glass of wine and leaned back against the center island enjoying the fact that all my friends were getting along for the moment.

Pepper and I got along fine considering she at one time thought me and Tony had been sleeping together. We'd hadn't been and it only took my giving Tony a verbal bitch slap in front of her for her to believe it.

Tony didn't let his guard down often, but he did around Pepper and told her he cared in words that would make no sense to anyone who didn't know him extremely well. Much like how I let Steve know. And Steve was most definitely a man who would say the words, I love you, and mean them.

James probably would do the same, which is why the words had never been said. Our agreement didn't require love, no matter how either of us actually felt.

I finished the glass poured another.

"Thought this was about the three best words, not code for you fucked up," James reminded everyone, earning snorts of amusement. Fair bet someone had kept the booze flowing and therefore the mood mellow even with the occasional serious tone I'd heard.

"Okay, supersoldier version 2.0 what's your selection?" Tony challenged a hard edge to his tone.

"He doesn't have three words, just one. Zhelaniye," Wanda answered for him.

Urf, I hadn't expected that gauntlet to be thrown down, not by Wanda anyway.

"Well, so doesn't she," James snapped back with. He didn't like being put on the spot, and he liked discussing his personal life even less where I became involved.

I sucked in a breath prepared to intervene when the timer went off and dragged my awareness away. I focused on getting the food ready, losing track of the conversation going on a couple rooms away. Thankfully, when I returned to paying attention all I heard was laughter, meaning James had managed just fine and turned things to his advantage, something he excelled at.

I got out a pile of plates and handfuls of silverware. We'd probably either carry the food back out or eat in here. The dining room no longer had a table and for the most part, my employees used the common area for their meals. I looked over the spread and determined it to be good enough for this particular crowd.

Carrying my glass of wine I rejoined the group.

"My dear, so glad you could find time in your busy schedule to play hostess," Tony stated magnanimously.

"Aww, you missed me," I simpered, earning a grin from him.

"So your three best words are," Wanda prompted.

I looked Tony right in the eyes and held up my left hand. Flipping up one finger as I spoke each word, "Dinner. Is. Served."

Tony stood and bowed at the waist. "You win."


	25. Inktober Day 25

Inktober Day 25: Best Gift Ever  
Fandom: The Invisible Man (TV 2000)  
Word Count:1136  
Notes: So, this one falls within Season 5 of the VS and probably won't actually count once I start beating on it for reals. Still, it fits in with the overall arc that had been planned and doesn't really spoil anything.

.

I had to wonder why'd they'd gone to all the trouble. Another year older, another year wondering if I would live to see the next one. I still had regrets over my decision, but at this point, I couldn't go back. Couldn't change my mind. Could only move forward and hope for the best.

Granted, I currently felt better than I had in ages. I had started working out again, running and lifting weights, putting lost muscle mass back on. Claire and Alex's need to make me eat healthily had kinda stuck and I had to admit it provided better fuel than yet another run through In-n-Out.

So what had they provided for my feast? The junkiest junk food that ever clogged an artery. Chips and dips and hot dogs and burgers and beer and soda for the lightweights, plus cake and ice cream for later.

I don't know how long they'd planned for this, but I kinda felt bad. Claire's upscale townhouse littered with streamers and balloons and confetti from cheesy birthday poppers that Hobbes seemed to find an incessant need to set off while standing right behind someone. It had taken Alex and her quick reactions elbowing him in the gut when she failed to find her gun on her hip to get him to quit. And that only for a short time, he simply learned to stand further back and out of swinging range.

I plastered a smile on my face and faked having fun as best I could, and it seemed to work for a while, eventually though, Claire cornered me in her kitchen where I stood, beer in my left, my right resting on the counter as I stared morosely at the two red segments of the snake curled on the inside of my wrist.

"Darien?"

I hid the flinch, rotated my head to meet my Keeper's concerned gaze, and raised the bottle of now warm beer to my lips to give me a moment before deciding how to answer. "Yep, that would be me," I finally quipped, trying to keep my tone light.

She glanced down at my hand which I quickly tucked into the front pocket of my jeans. I immediately realized that would only confirm her worries and not lessen them.

"It's not that bad is it?"

"Depends on who you ask, I 'spose." Some days, yeah, had been nothing but bad. Others had been just fine, where the distraction of work or life let me forget for a little while. Where I got to be a real boy for a short time. But those moments of normalcy always came at a cost. And the crash after? Always hurt worse than the previous one.

She sidled closer to me, plainly wanting to set a comforting hand on my arm, but I had no interest in being placated today so I slipped away. She stopped dead giving me a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

"Whatcha need, Claire?" I tried not to sneer her name. She'd done nothing wrong other than saving my life. The fact that she had also assisted in causing the problem in the first place not lost on me. I wanted her to fix the cure sooner rather than later, but since it had only been a few weeks should cut her some slack, I just couldn't quite manage it for whatever reason.

"Present time," she told me with a faint smile.

I sighed. Bad enough they'd gone to all this trouble in a failing effort to cheer me up and then they'd chosen to actually get me gifts? My stomach sank as I realized exactly how shitty a friend I had become. "Cool," I managed, though with a decided lack of excitement in my voice.

I followed her back outside in the bright sunshine and eternal warmth of southern California.

"Fawkesy, happy birthday." Hobbes shoved a box at me, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited impatiently for me to open the damn thing.

I tried not to laugh at the picture he painted as I didn't. The knitted brows. The confusion skittering across his face. The sudden lack of motion as I didn't move as fast as he had hoped.

"Fawkes, open it before he explodes, would you," Monroe laughed settling back into her seat.

"Way to spoil the moment there Miss Five Star A."

She simply smirked at me in that overbearing yet fond way of hers.

"Fine." I settled into one of the lawn chairs, plucked the bow off and tore open the paper. I revealed a high end set of Bluetooth headphones that matched my recently purchased phone. "Thanks, Bobby."

He grinned, seemingly satisfied with my reaction. I opened a dozen gifts, more than I needed or deserved. Some practical, some humorous, but all proving this group of people knew me and cared about me and yet… Yet part of me wondered if they'd gone to all this effort just to distract me from the giant swirling bowl my life currently revolved around. Though that laptop could be useful in assisting my efforts to hunt dawn Arnaud and persuade him to rewrite the cure and get it right this time.

After all had been said and done, Claire handed me an envelope.

She leaned down to whisper in my ear, "Open it later." Then kissed me on the cheek.

I'm certain I appeared confused but nodded. "Sure, Keepy."

I tucked it into my pile of goodies and forgot about it.

Hours later as I sorted through the box my hoard of gifts had been shoved into for easy transport, along with leftover cake, and burgers, and chips and anything else Claire could convince me to take, I found the plain envelope. White, used for your standard eight and a half by eleven type paper, I suspected it to be nothing more than a Dear John letter of sorts. You know Happy Birthday Darien the gland is yours forever along with permanent madness.

Then I shook it off. No way she'd do that to me. No, she'd give the bad news in person and be prepared for whatever reaction I might have.

I grabbed the nearest knifelike object and sliced open the envelope. Several sheets of paper lay within and I withdrew them, noting the heavier than typical stock that had been used. I unfolded them with care. The top sheet had the words, Happy Birthday, Darien in Claire's upper-crust cursive. I set it aside to glance over the rest.

I blinked at the carefully handwritten formula the next several pages contained and that I couldn't translate. At least not a first. I leaned back against my pool table part of me certain I knew exactly what the gibberish in front of me represented, but it still took several minutes before I sucked in a sudden breath.

Counteragent. Claire had given me the frickin' Counteragent formula as a birthday present.

Yeah, best gift ever.


	26. Inktober Day 26

Inktober Day 26: Sandwich  
Fandom: MCU (post CA:CW ish)  
Word Count: 563  
Notes: So, somewhere along the way I forgot the word for this particular challenge and had to mush it in somehow mostly so I wouldn't have to start over again. Especially since this idea refused to go away and made me write it.  
Notes the second: Again I used a random first line generator to get this one started, which then took me off in the entirely wrong direction. Oops.

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Half the names on the list had already been crossed off. I had drawn a perfectly straight line through each as I completed the task I had set related to it.

For some, I had been able to do little more than visit a grave and secure the files associated with that particular assassination.

See, once upon a time, I had been a ghost. A figure no one actually saw, but that everyone knew about. Whether up close and personal, or from a distance, I killed people. Good people, bad people, it didn't matter and more I didn't care.

Well, I probably would have had I been permitted to.

Now I could look at that list of names and remember, not always crisp and clear, some of them little more than scraps, like confetti, bits and pieces torn apart and flung into the air to be carried away on the slightest of breezes.

Perhaps for the best, really. I doubted I could bear the full burden of what I had done over the long decades I'd been the Fist of Hydra.

This list my punishment for not dying when a Hydra blast flung me from the train.

I could have died. Should have died.

Yet I endured.

And the regret and guilt piled higher and higher upon my shoulders until the weight of it bore me down and my choices became fewer and fewer. Until I could no longer look myself in the mirror without seeing the masked face of the Winter Soldier and his cold, cold eyes staring back at me.

How could I even pretend to be human if I did nothing?

And maybe that had become my harsh reality. To no longer be human. To care nothing for the past. To find no solace in the life I currently lived. I had followed his lead, tried to play the hero, but the shadow of my past loomed large over every good deed I did and in the end, all the praise tasted like nothing more than ashes in my mouth.

So when the opportunity came, the decision had been an easy one.

"Buck, you okay?" Steve tipped his head, watching me with care. "You haven't eaten your sandwich."

"Not hungry," I mumbled, not able to meet his eyes.

He sighed softly. "You don't have to do this."

I snorted. "Kinda too late now. They'll be calling me in soon." Not that I wanted to walk away. I needed to do this. Needed to be able to cross the last few names off this list.

"Bucky–"

"Steve, it needs to be done." My tone as firm as my decision.

He nodded slowly. "Okay."

I looked over the list one more time, tucked it into the inner pocket of the suit jacket the stylist had insisted I wear, though I'd said no to the tie. The last thing I needed was the feeling of being choked while doing this.

I wondered if he'd be there, or watching remotely.

See, only one person on my list still lived, and, ultimately, my need to earn his forgiveness the reason I'd come to this particular meeting of the UN. And he would be the one least likely to forgive or care: Tony Stark.

A quick knock on the door before it swung open. "They're ready for you, Mr. Barnes."

I nodded. Time to face the consequences.


	27. Inktober Day 27

Inktober Day 27: Song Lyric  
Fandom: The Invisible Man (TV, 2000)  
Word Count: 548  
Notes: Yes, I blatantly stole this from the meme/joke I've seen floating around the 'net. Seemed perfect for this particular prompt.

Notes the second: I couldn't find a damn pic of them in Golda, so I settled for this one.

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He had made a poor job of hiding the damage. Scraped and bruised knuckles he tried to hide by keeping his hands down and in loose fists. But the instant he wrapped them about the steering wheel of the crappy olf van they'd become obvious. Never mind the grunt of discomfort that accompanied the movement.

"Hobbes."

"Fawkes."

I sighed softly. The grumpy tone that oozed over the single word a direct order to not ask what I kinda had to ask.

"Who've you been punching?"

He hunched down, head tucked and shoulders coming forward, which I considered damn impressive given the late morning traffic he had to weave through. "No one," he mumbled.

I shifted, coming up out of my slouch and rotating slightly to look at him directly. He could feel my eyes on him. I mean literally feel and I watched as he tried to turtle and pull in even further before finally giving it up as a bad job and sitting up straight, rolling his shoulders back as if to ease a cramp that had developed. "What's up, Bobby?"

"I got an earwig, okay?"

"And earwig? One a'those bugs with the pinchers on its ass?" I tried to keep the confusion out of my voice, 'cause, yeah, my Hobbesy would confuse his words now and then. I just couldn't figure this one out on my own without another clue or three.

He shot me a look of what the fuck then shook his head. "No, I got… I got a song lyric stuck in my head."

Oh. "An earworm." That made a fuckton more sense. "What does that have to do with punching things hard enough to leave marks?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I went to the diner last night to grab a bite. You know, the one on 6th?"

I nodded. I knew the place well and the two of us had grabbed many a meal there.

"Well, they got that jukebox. The one where you can buy the songs at the table."

"Okay." I could kinda see where this might be going, least in relation to the earworm.

"So, I'm eating my meatloaf and mashed potatoes when What's New Pussycatstarts playing."

"And that resulted in blows being thrown?" The song not that bad in my opinion

"Fawkes, it played ten times in a row."

I chuckled. "That explains the earworm."

"No, you don't get. Ten. Times. In. A. Row. I swear every single person in there wanted to die. What's New Pussycat over and over and over again."

And Hobbes with his issues probably wanted to stab his dull table knife into his ears to make it go away.

"And then all of a sudden it changed to It's Not Unusual."

"And then you hit someone?"

"I didn't hit nobody," he argued at near full volume. "I punched the frickin' jukebox to make it stop."

I failed utterly to hide the snickers bubbling up. "Why, Hobbes, the song had changed."

"It came back," he growled, tone black as pitch. "It started up right after. I couldn't take it any longer."

I gave up on holding in the laughter, hand on my stomach, head tipping back as I roared.

"So glad my shit night amuses you."

I wiped away the tears that had formed. "I'm sorry, Bobby. But from the outside, that's funny as hell."

"Not so funny when you gotta replace the jukebox, though in truth it was worth it just to shut the frickin' thing up."

"And now you have the song stuck in your head."

He nodded, looking miserable.

"Well then, let's see if we can clear it out." I reached out and flipped on the radio. The announcer was halfway through his spiel and announced the next song coming up as What's New Pussycat.

Hobbes's knuckles popped on the steering wheel and I quickly changed the station.


	28. Inktober Day 28

Inktober Day 28: Award  
Fandom: The Invisible Man (TV, 2000)  
Word Count: 900  
Notes: I did very minimal research on Disrupt mostly 'cause my laptop decided to crash in the middle of it (also why I'm behind again, I got to spend the evening convincing it to work again), so please forgive any errors major or minor.

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The doors to the office opened revealing Fawkes and Hobbes doing their usual morning banter, both with cups of coffee in hand, Darien's a venti, Hobbes only a tall as the caffeine did not mix well with some of his meds, but, like most of the world, he required a boost to get started in the morning. Granted, he'd probably been awake several hours while Darien, perhaps one at most.

"Ebes, you're back."

Darien actually sounded somewhat excited to see me.

Hobbes frowned ever so slightly. "Hope you enjoyed your vacation," he sneered.

"He was working," the Official told him in a tone that meant the matter should be dropped right now, but as usual Hobbes ignored it and forged ahead with whatever bee he'd gotten stuck in his bonnet this time.

"Right. Then why wasn't he here doing paperwork."

Ah, the truth revealed. Hobbes had gotten stuck doing the filing while I'd been otherwise occupied for the last several days.

"Bobby," Darien warned sotto voce as he shoved his partner towards a chair and encouraged him to sit down. "So, Eberts, was it a successful business trip?"

I glanced over at the Official who nodded. We had planned to review the details with them this morning anyway since it would require their assistance to follow up, but I didn't want to steal the Boss's thunder.

I picked up and handed each of them a tablet, given the nature of the job, it made more sense to make use of the technology I'd been able to acquire for our Agency. Darien had adapted quite well considering his total lack of tech training, while Hobbes stared at the offending piece of equipment for a long moment before heaving a heavy sigh and tapping the screen to begin.

Darien sipped at his latte while I gave them a moment to read the overview on the first page. "You were at Disrupt?"

Hobbes rolled his eyes. "That giant white hat hacker event in San Fran?"

The Official's eyes glittered with a mix of anger and greed. "Yes. Take a moment and think about it."

Darien's eyes flicked from the tablet to me and back again. He actually set the cup down on the floor next to his chair as he waded through the info I had compiled and simplified for them. Admittedly, Hobbes could handle the tech speak better, but I didn't want to waste my time writing each a version appropriate to their skill level, so I went with layman and figured I'd handle grumpy Hobbes when he complained I'd been talking down to him.

"Who were the targets?"

I gave Darien a bright smile. "We only know them by their online personas, but we have our suspicions. Page six I believe."

Hobbes whistled. "These guys are damn near heroes on the dark web." His eyes narrowed. "You sure you didn't get seen?"

The Official rumbled to life. "Do you think you could do better?"

Hobbes opened his mouth, but Darien cut him off. "No, Ebes is our resident nerd, just might have been better if we'd been there to physically back him up."

"We had considered it, but as both of you would have stood out as non-nerds we decided against it," I explained. Yes, there had been times when I feared I'd been discovered, but nothing had come of it. "During the hackathon, I was able to insert a tracking code that attached to their specific data trails. We should be seeing the first results within the next few days."

"Nice," Darien praised. "And once you've tracked them to their evil lair we scoop them up and bring them in."

"Not exactly," The Official stated, bursting their bubble before it had really formed. "See, while they are valuable, who they contact and work for is even more so." He grinned, one that usually scared me, but today it didn't bother me at all. In fact, part of me wanted to emulate it.

"We start arresting his clients he–"

"Or she."

"–might get suspicious and find your lines of code," Hobbes shot a glare at his partner for the verbal interruption, but the point was a good one. It could even be a group effort.

I shrugged. "It will happen eventually, but until it does…"

"We will be ahead of every other agency in this country," the Official finished, the avarice in his voice a living thing. If nothing else the man loved being at the top of the pecking order. I mean, we had stopped the Chameleon after all.

Darien set the tablet down on his bouncing thighs. "So, how'd you do?"

Hobbes's face crawled with confusion. "Do? He said he got the job done."

Darien shook his head. "Hobbes, it's a competition. There's prizes and stuff. Right, Ebes?"

I nodded. "You are correct." Again I glanced at the Official who grunted, which meant hurry it up. "I did indeed win an award for the organizational app I created."

"Way to go, Eberts." Darien held out his fist to be bumped which I did actually feeling a touch of pride.

I had yet to mention the contract I'd been offered to the Official since he'd probably shoot it down citing I'd be distracted from my work at the Agency.

"Thank you, Darien."

"All right, enough back patting. You two ready to actually work today?" The Official barked, ending my moment in the sun.

Hobbes sat up straight in his chair, ready to be freed from the onus of paperwork. "Of course, sir."

The Official waved a hand and this time I handed them each a file folder giving them an overview of today's mission.


	29. Inktober Day 29

Inktober Day 29: costume  
Fandom: MCU (post AoS)  
Word Count: 864  
Notes: I had about 15 different ideas in four different fandoms, but this particular bunny won.

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"Surprise," I told Cap as I waved at the stage that had been set up on the grassy field where training exercises usually took place. Today the majority of the Compound had been granted the day off to celebrate not only the Fourth of July but the birthday of one Steve Rogers, who had pretty much epitomized the meaning of that date for the entirety of his adult life.

On stage, girls trotted out singing and dancing about the star-spangled man with a plan, who entered from the left, complete with bright colors and tights.

"What the hell is that?" Steve muttered.

"Language," I warned, earning a sigh of frustration from the man next to me. "That would be a lovely young gentleman who looks remarkably like you in a period-accurate costume."

"Why?" he all but whined.

"Why not? They deserve a day off," I twisted to look him over, "as do you. 'Sides I thought this would be fun. I've arranged a whole day's worth of entertainment." I'd pulled off some amazing parties in my time, but none quite like this. Three bands doing thoroughly modern music and two others who played a variety of music from the thirties and forties. Perfect for the old man and his need for nostalgia.

On stage, Captain America spun about and punched faux-Hitler in the nose to the cheers and laughter of the audience. "See, Cap, they love it."

But Steve no longer stood beside me. I spun about and saw him striding away for the main building. I jogged after him but failed to catch up until we were indoors. I managed to get a hand on his arm, which convinced him to stop and look over his shoulder at me."Hey, it's your party, remember?"

"I'll join in later."

I watched him with care, he had that stubborn look on his face, but his eyes… his eyes held a deep weariness that for an instant I failed to comprehend. The whole show had been for him, a reminder of where he'd begun and… "Shit."

He quirked an eyebrow at me.

"I swear I just wanted to have some fun. Get you to have some fun. I didn't think about the fact that you'd start brooding over the past."

He sighed softly, the tense shoulders softening. "I appreciate the effort, Tony. I really do, but the memories–"

"Too much, huh." He nodded. "Ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone into the ice?"

"Yeah. Until I realized it didn't matter. I did and I woke up here."

"You know there's a fair chance you would have ended up here anyway, right?"

He blinked. "How do you figure that?"

I gave him a dramatic wave from head to toe.

"The serum, of course. But how?"

"You regenerate at an incredible rate, and with incredible efficiency. You won't age like the rest of us, if at all. Even if you had lived, married, had your two point five, barring an injury that would kill you, would still have made it to here."

"And how different might the world be," he mused aloud, the words almost wistful. "All the changes I might have made had I lived."

He had thought about this, long and hard and then somehow he had let it go. I'm not certain I could have done the same. Still, I had to play devil's advocate. "You think you could have changed the course of the world? That you're smart enough to have prevented Hydra infiltrating SHIELD? "

He huffed out a breath. "I most certainly would have been against using Zola for anything other warming a windowless cell."

And that act alone would have had a major cascade effect on all of known reality. No Zola meant no Hydra within SHIELD, which meant no Insight, no battle of DC. Nevermind that no Zola meant no Winter Soldier and all those assassinations he'd committed would be undone. Which meant I might not have been alone for a fair portion of my adult life.

Yeah, today would have been very different had Captain America been discovered in the Arctic not long after he'd crashed the Valkyrie.

"Point made. But you're here, now, with the world like this and it's your birthday. Can you put down the mantle for just one day and let us celebrate your birthday. With you?" I set a hand on his shoulder. "You spend most of your time as a hero, how about just being Steve Rogers for a while," I suggested, hoping he'd actually loosen up for a few hours. He had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders for far too long, time for him to remember how to just be himself and not the ideal everyone expected. He didn't often take part in my parties, but when he did he seemed to have fun. Even when they ended with evil robots trying to destroy the majority of life on the planet.

He took a moment to think about then nodded. "Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Excellent. Wait till you see the cake I ordered."

"Tony–"

"C'mon, old man, let's go celebrate your long life."


	30. Inktober Day 30

Inktober Day 30: Best Villian  
Fandom: MCU (CA:TWS)  
Word Count: 457  
Notes: The one scene I wished they'd included even as an extra or short was Steve and Nat breaking into the storage facility to get the EXO-7.

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I used to think everything about her was a lie. Used to think that nothing she said or did could come even close to being real. She wore masks like other people wore clothes, shedding them a layer at a time until… until yet more layers had been revealed. I had no idea who the woman behind the masks really was until… until our reality fell apart around us.

I mean, how do you trust someone when you have absolutely no idea who they really were. Fury was a slippery son of a bitch, but I understood his type of person. The man in charge didn't always tell you the whole truth, almost always withheld information simply because that was the nature of the job. I'd known more than a few spies of both sexes, but none compared to Natasha.

It took an encounter with a man I'd thought long dead to see the human under all the veils, and I discovered I liked her and that our friendship could be more than a superficial one of coworkers who occasionally spent time together off the job.

Amazing what one learns about another person when on the run with your life on the line.

"Steve, you in there?"

"Yeah, what's up?" Sam had loaned us his car for our break in to get his wings back. It had gone just as planned, and what resistance we'd encountered had easily fallen beneath us.

We did work together well as a team, between our fighting skills and her tech-savvy nothing barred our way.

"So, Hydra, best villain ever?"

I frowned. "Most persistent one, anyway." I'd travel a long distance… a long time thinking I had destroyed them utterly when Red Skull had fallen through that whole in space leaving them leaderless. "How did they survive? We thought without Schmidt they'd fall apart."

She shot me a look full of concern. "We'll deal with that after. First, we have to stop them."

"You think we can stop them? Stop Hydra? I died trying to do that and yet here they are." I let go of the steering wheel to spread my hands wide.

She reached out and grasped the wheel with one hand when the car hit a bump and tried to shift into the opposite lane. "Rogers, we have to try. Don't we?"

For an instant, I wondered why we should bother. Hydra was a cancer that could never be completely eradicated. "Cut off one head; two grow back." I set my hands back on the wheel and she removed her slowly, taking a moment to squeeze mine in sympathy.

"Then I guess we better get really good at cutting off heads."

I found it hard to argue with that.


	31. Inktober Day 31

Inktober Day 31: Grail Pen  
Fandom: MCU  
Word Count: 484  
Notes: About a week ago inspiration for this, the final story beat me about the head. I thought it a fitting end to this month of prompts as it dovetails nicely with Day 1.

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I hadn't looked at it in years, but the lawyers and the insurance adjuster had ordered a full accounting of all items after the most recent battle had damaged the storage units. Didn't matter that they were located deep underground and while the alarms had indeed gone off little more than dust had been moved. I debated letting Happy handle it, but given I couldn't do much till my arm healed –the break minor but keeping me out of the lab– I joined the team armed with cameras and tablets as they entered the first vault. This one dedicated to personal items I had been unable to part with, some going back decades.

I wandered through the room, answering the few questions asked of me, but mostly just taking the time to remember. Bits and pieces of years gone by. Items that had belonged to my mother that I'd been unable to part with. Notes and recordings and awards my father had received over the years.

Items that I had found valuable enough to keep or that had an emotional component I could not yet break away from. A first pitch baseball I had thrown at a game back in my twenties. An entire wall of honorary degrees I had been given by various universities, some multiple times when the new administration forgot the deeds of the old. The mask of the Iron Man armor Mark I, recovered by Stane when he'd gone after the Ten Rings cell he'd hired to kill me. I found the parts in the secret lab Stane had been running, trying to copy my Arc Reactor design.

I kept it as a reminder.

Never trust anyone.

Eventually, of course, I had found others worthy of said trust, but it had taken quite some time and more than a few misunderstandings.

I continued around the room, the quiet murmur of voices almost pleasant given I hated people in my personal space and this was most certainly extraordinarily personal for me.

Gifts worth keeping, mementos of years gone by. Milestones like the first computer I had built. It still worked, though the power of today's technology far outstripped it.

And the pens. yes, those pens, the ones used by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt to sign the Lend-Lease Act in 1941. The ones I used to when I tried to convince Rogers to sigh the Accords.

Collectors were always asking about them, especially one. That particular one had become a grail pen, an item considered beyond valuable, holy even.

But one I most certainly could not part with.

I opened the case and then the box, staring down at the pair that had become unequal in value to an extreme degree.

Both had their place in history, but the bottom one more so, since I had personally used it to sign the documents verifying the identity of the body of Steve Rogers.


End file.
